Unwavering
by SGAFan
Summary: When John disappears after a gate accident, Atlantis searches for answers and their missing colonel, while John, stranded off-world, struggles to survive, holding to hope that they'll find him. Written for the Sheppard HC community Secret Santa.


**Rating: PG-13 for mild profanity and whump**

**Note: **Written for the Sheppard HC Community Secret Santa Challenge. Challenge is listed at the end of the story

Many Thanks to Kristen999 for her great beta read! :)

"_**Dum spiro, spero."**_

_**("While I breathe, I hope.")**_

_**~Latin Proverb**_

* * *

_NOTE: This story takes place in season 2 between Intruder and Runner_

John inhaled deeply, relaxing back into his chair as he piloted the jumper back towards M9H-551's gate. The downtime this little excursion gave him was just what he'd needed. Ever since returning to Atlantis after the siege, he'd practically been meeting himself coming and going. Regular contact with Earth had definitely stepped up the pace of activity in the city, but with the ZPM, Atlantis was able to support a much larger scientific contingent, and that meant a corresponding increase in military personnel to watch out for them. In the weeks since they'd been back, he'd questioned his decision to accept a promotion and command of Atlantis' military contingent, more than once.

John smiled slightly and dismissed the thought immediately. In spite of more than his share of near death experiences, there was no place else he'd rather be serving. Besides, with the promotion the only person he answered to on Atlantis was Elizabeth who gave him pretty free rein as far as CO's went. But the paperwork, new arrival orientations, guard schedules, off-world travel orientations and missions, team rotations and, not to mention, supervising a bunch of civilians in basic firearm safety – which had gotten his big toe nearly blown off more than once – John was more than ready to jump on a milk-run mission like this one; ferrying a team of geologists to an off-world research base. Elizabeth though, hadn't been easily convinced….

"_Tell me again, why you feel the need to pilot the jumper in this mission, Colonel?" Elizabeth asked, as she led John and Rodney into her office. _

"_I'd never ask my guys to do something that I'm not willing to do," John responded immediately, wincing slightly at the rehearsed sound of his reply. _

"_Hmm…" Elizabeth, apparently noticed as well. "You're officially the military commander of this expedition now, John, you have other responsibilities besides shuttling scientists and supplies to an off-world research outpost." Rounding her desk, she sat down and folded her hands on top of her tablet. She looked up at him._

_Feeling like he was 17 again, and trying to get the keys to the family car from his mother, John clasped his hands behind his back, but plowed on. "Right," he agreed, "it's a dull and boring mission, but my guys need to know that I'm willing to do anything they have to do." He smiled slightly._

"_And the fact that Dr. Hennessy is on the science team you're ferrying has nothing to do with this, right?" Rodney interjected. _

_John sent a sideways glare at Rodney as he felt a flush creep up his neck. He looked back at Elizabeth_

_Her gaze narrowed before she shifted her gaze to Rodney. "Dr. Hennessy?"_

"_New geologist in Brickman's department." Rodney supplied. "She's a specialist in geomorphology; something Brickman wanted on this research project." Rodney directed a thumb at John. "Not exactly his type." _

_Annoyed, John fixed Rodney with another glare. "How would you know what my type is?"_

_Rodney gave him an acerbic look. "Please. She's not exactly the alien priestess type and has more than two brain cells to rub together. That alone…."_

_"Now wait a minute," John interrupted, his voice trailing off at Elizabeth's sigh._

"_Gentlemen." _

_Sensing he was near to the end of Elizabeth's patience, John ramped up his argument. "Look," he took a step forward. "All other things aside," he paused a moment to throw a black look Rodney's direction, "I got a lot of new guys in my command. I think it'd be a good thing for me to do this. It'll be as boring as hell," he cocked his head and flashed her a disarming smile. "Sounds refreshing." _

_A smile broke past Elizabeth's somber look and she shook her head. She narrowed her gaze slightly in a mock firm look before nodding once. "You have a go, Colonel."_

As the jumper ate up the land below them, he noticed how strange it felt to be alone and even a little disquieting. His thought sobered. The last time he'd been in a jumper by himself, wasn't too far in the past, but it was a dark memory he worked hard to put behind him.

"_Weapon is armed and ready. I'm going in…."_

Distant, his thoughts turned. _"Stand down, Lieutenant. That is a direct order…." _John watched the trees pass under him in a blur and wondered about Ford, the sting of loss still fresh within him.

He shook his head slightly as if somehow the physical action would shake lose the memory and the moment of pain was replaced with strong resolution. He'd find Ford. Period. End of discussion.

His gaze refocused as the Stargate came into view and he decelerated, pulling the jumper into a full standstill and hovering a safe distance from the gate. He looked down and quickly dialed Atlantis' address, before looking back up in time to see the wormhole flush into existence. He waited a few moments before sending his IDC and then opened a channel. "Atlantis this is Jumper One requesting access."

"Jumper One, this is Atlantis. IDC confirmed, Colonel Sheppard. The shield is down, you're cleared to come through."

"Copy that Atlantis. Jumper One en route." He accelerated towards the wormhole and glanced momentarily to his left in the general direction of the drive pod. Almost immediately, he felt a vibration pass through the craft as the technology accurately read his command and retracted the pods into the fuselage. A few seconds later, he passed through the event horizon and felt the familiar tingle of Stargate travel as he was propelled through the wormhole.

He never really understood how, when his body was de-molecularized and sent as energy, he could still almost "see" the wormhole and feel the sensation of being hurtled light years across space. After all, for those brief moments, he didn't exist as anything more than pure energy. McKay had tried to explain the physics before, but somewhere about thirty seconds into a lightning fast dissertation about wormhole physics that would put even the smartest astrophysicist to shame – though the argument could be made that the man speaking held that position as well – he'd lost interest.

Still, John had traveled through enough wormholes to know what it felt like, so when a shuddering tingle passed through him about three seconds into his trip, he knew something was wrong… and knew he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Suddenly, the multitude of colors flashing past him at breakneck speed started moving even faster, their pace almost frantic. Every pore in his atomized body screamed a warning, but all John could do was dread the outcome, wish he could warn Atlantis, and wonder if he'd survive.

At the moment he was whole and could really see again, his understandable relief was short lived. His speed was suicidal, even for the jumper's dampeners, and instead of Atlantis' gate room, he saw nothing but grass and trees… trees that were rapidly getting larger in his windshield.

Instinctively, John pushed aside his confusion and pulled up hard on the controls, simultaneously sending the same mental command to the jumper… along with every adjective for 'ascend!' that he could think of. The ship valiantly responded to his command, but his speed was too fast, and the grove surrounding the gate too small. "Shit!" He managed to tense and throw his arms over his face, a second before the jumper plowed into the trees, the glass in front of him shattering.

Powerless against the raw kinetic energy and in spite of the dampeners, John felt himself hurtle forward and through the windshield. For a second, the bliss of soft air surrounded him, before he slammed into the hard ground. Pain seared through his ribs, his shoulder, his back and everywhere… but that pain was put to shame by the sheer agony that ripped through his leg an instant before it exploded in his head.

And in that moment, he knew nothing else.

* * *

"What the hell?" Rodney tore his gaze from the Stargate as the wormhole abruptly disengaged, leaving the gate room dark and very noticeably empty. He turned an accusatory look on the gate technician, Chuck, who shrugged.

"It wasn't me. The gate just… shut down."

"Where's Sheppard?" Rodney demanded, before grabbing the back of Chuck's chair and wheeling him roughly aside. He tapped several commands on one of the laptops, before lifting both hands off the keyboard expectantly. "The gate shut down." Rodney ground his teeth as he heard a mumbled 'no shit' from behind him, but kept working. "That's impossible. There're at least a dozen safety protocols in place to prevent the wormhole from disengaging while a traveler is in transit, unless..." his eyes widened, "the gate was destroyed." He turned his head, fixing Chuck with a brief but intense stare. "Get Dr. Weir up here." He looked down at the DHD and quickly dialed the address for M9H-551, sighing quietly as the wormhole sprang to life. "Okay, we still have a viable gate." He smacked open a channel. "Jumper One this is Atlantis, do you copy?" Rodney stared hard at the shimmering wormhole. "Colonel Sheppard, this is McKay. Please respond."

"_Dr. McKay, this is Dr. Brickman. Colonel Sheppard isn't here. He left a while ago. Isn't he back on Atlantis?" _

Rodney rolled his eyes. "If he was, I wouldn't be calling!" he snapped. "Clear the channel."

_"Brickman, out."_

Rodney ignored the clearly irritated tone to Brickman's voice. "Colonel Sheppard. Please respond."

"Rodney?" Weir walked up next to him. "What's going on?"

Rodney looked up, meeting her concerned and questioning gaze with an intense one of his own. "Sheppard called in, confirming he was en route back to Atlantis, but the gate shut down before he got here. We don't know why, but he's not on M9H-551 anymore."

Weir's eyes widened. "What? Where is he?"

Rodney looked down at the DHD. "I don't know, but he's… gone."

"Could he have gated somewhere else?" Chuck asked.

Rodney shook his head. "Sheppard would've told us where he was going and why."

"He has to be somewhere," Weir insisted.

"I know that!" Rodney snapped. He paused and took a deep breath before continuing in a slightly calmer tone. "I can't explain it, not yet." Pulling the laptop to him, he started typing commands, launching any diagnostic he could think of.

"Could the wormhole have jumped to another gate?" Weir asked.

"Not likely," Rodney answered, never looking up. "It requires a massive amount of focused energy to make a wormhole randomly jump. Sheppard didn't report anything out of the ordinary when he contacted us. He would've mentioned anything abnormal like lightening or weapons fire or… whatever!" he tried, futilely to ignore Weir's frustrated sigh.

"Rodney…"

"I'll figure it out," Rodney interrupted.

"Rodney," Weir repeated, her voice quiet, "Could he have been in transit when the wormhole shut down?"

Rodney's hands froze and he looked up at the gate for a moment. _If the wormhole did somehow disengage while he was in transit…._ He looked at Weir. "Theoretically, yes," he managed. "But, there're a **stack** of protocols in place to protect the traveler. The odds of all of them failing are astronomical, but… it's possible." He stared hard at her grim expression and for a long moment, neither of them moved, before Weir's lips tightened and she nodded once.

"Keep looking." Weir looked at Chuck. "Page Teyla to Ops. She should know what is going on."

Rodney returned his attention to his diagnostics. He knew what she was doing with her line of questioning, and at some level agreed. None of them wanted to believe that Sheppard could've been killed by a gate malfunction, and none of them were prepared to give up on him, but at the same time, that very real possibility couldn't be denied. Rodney's gaze narrowed. But that didn't mean he was ready to embrace it.

* * *

_Pain… motion… torture!_

_Each jarring move sending a new wave through him. Somewhere, on the edge of blackness, consciousness waited, but just outside of his reach. _

_Agony… He screamed, but knew nothing more than a groan broke the black barrier surrounding him. _

"Is he awake?"

"Not entirely. I hope, for his sake, he does not wake now. He must be moved and that pain cannot be helped."

_He screamed again, the escaping groan louder, before the heavy, warm blanket of darkness shrouded him, consciousness retreating and taking the agony with it._

* * *

Blackness faded to gray and with it, consciousness began to return, this time, more insistent. It was closer to him, just within reach… and he seized it. Confusion hit him first, only to be buried by pain. He managed a strangled gasp and his body tensed. Someone was sawing his leg in half, he was certain. His groan morphed into a strangled cry as the saw ripped through his left leg. He'd been injured before, been in pain before, but he'd never felt pain this raw, this… brutal. He swore he could feel the jagged edges of his bone grating together as his hands clenched into fists and a second cry escaped him. He tried to relax, tried to ride out the storm of seizing muscles until it ebbed, but he just couldn't crest that wave, and instead, found himself battered by it.

Something cool touched his forehead, and it took him a moment to realize it was a soft hand.

"Be still," a quiet female voice urged him.

"P…ain…" John managed, his voice broken and his writhing uncontrollable.

"I know. Breathe through it. It will pass."

John inhaled as best he could, trying to will his body to relax. The hand never left his forehead and abruptly he felt another hand pry apart his fingers, giving him something to grab onto and grab he did. Brief concern flickered through him as he couldn't control his vice-like grip, but his companion's hold didn't waver.

"Breathe again," she urged. "I promise you, it will pass."

John took another breath, this one easier as the spikes began to fade into dull throbs. After another moment the piercing agony snapped, leaving him gasping. His body went limp as the pain faded to a chronic throbbing that he could handle. He forced his tight grip to loosen on the hand that held onto his, before he swallowed hard and opened his eyes as the cool touch left his forehead. He looked to his right, and directly into a set of intense brown eyes. Through dim light, he could see dark hair pulled back in a makeshift ponytail, a few short hairs escaping and brushing against smudges of dirt on her cheeks. Her gaze was astute and concerned, her brow furrowed as she leaned over him. "Hi," he managed.

She smiled slightly in a reassuring manner, the creases of worry on her face fading and she cocked her head a little. "Hello."

John blinked hard, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together. He looked around and for the first time, noticed he was lying in a marginally soft bed. Smooth walls with faded, peeling paint greeted his gaze and got the inexplicable impression that, at one time, they'd been pristine, white and clean but now, it seemed that day was far gone. His eyes travelled upwards. The ceiling was in similar condition. To his left a large, gaping hole had been patched with what looked like thatched roofing and a couple of cracks crisscrossed above him. Around the room, sockets held what looked like some sort of light bulb, but the dim light that bathed him came from a single strand of lanterns, sparingly strung along one wall and several candles on what looked like a metal table with pipe legs, just across from him. Instruments and supplies were stacked neatly on the table and at the very end, he could just make out his TAC vest and what looked like his holstered nine mil sitting on top of it. On the other side of the table, two more empty beds were backed against the wall opposite to him. He smelled dust and a hint of mold but also a vague trace of antiseptic that made him think he was in a small hospital of some sort or a rural clinic. Whatever it was, this place had definitely seen better days.

His gaze returned to his companion as she stood and crossed to the table, before writing something on what looked like a tablet of paper. She grabbed one of the candles and something else, before she walked back to his bed. Setting the candle on a small table by his head, she again sat down on the edge of his bed. The other item she carried, looked like a stethoscope of some sort and she set it in her lap.

She gently took his hand and pressed firmly on his thumbnail for a minute and watched intently, before nodding to herself. "Pressure's good," she muttered. She set his hand down and pressed her fingers into his wrist, finding his pulse. After several seconds, she put the stethoscope ear tips in her ears and slid the bell under his shirt and against his chest. It was cool, a stark contrast to her confident and warm hands. "Breathe as deeply as you can," she said quietly.

John drew in a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his chest as he tried to tune out the throbbing from his leg, but he remained silent. As his head continued to clear, a barrage of questions flew through his mind, but he kept them to himself. Beckett had him well trained and he knew better than to interrupt during an examination. Somewhere in the back of his head he had a fleeting moment of dark amusement over that thought, before he took the time to scrutinize his care giver as he gave her several more deep breaths. She looked slightly younger than him, but he was pretty certain not by very many years and her clothing, somehow fit her surroundings. Though worn and faded, they weren't homespun, like the clothing of so many people in Pegasus. Her shirt and pants carried several rough, multicolored patches, but looked machine tailored. John furrowed his brows. Everything about this place made him think a society that had been industrialized… at least at one time.

His gaze settled on his bed, and his slightly elevated left leg. A rough metal frame surrounded it from foot to hip, holding the leg in an elevated position, while a U shaped bar circled his leg from outside to inside and several lines of wire were attached to it just below his foot. The wires led to a complex set of pullies and counter weights. He blinked hard before noticing her looking at him. "Leg?"

She sighed quietly and removed the stethoscope. "Your long bone is broken."

John's gaze returned to his leg, the contraption surrounding it suddenly making sense. "Traction," he whispered. He glanced at her puzzled look. "To set the bone?"

Her confusion cleared and she nodded. "Yes. You know of such things?"

John quirked a brow. "A little." He felt a little like someone was punching him repeatedly in the leg, but he still managed a half smile. "John Sheppard."

Her smile was equally small. "Leanna Annoul." She stood again. "Let me get you some water."

John swallowed against his scratchy throat and nodded. "Sounds good." Letting his head sink further into the pillow, he squinted slightly at the glass IV bottle that hung just above his bed. A slow drip fed into a line that disappeared under a sling immobilizing his left arm and shoulder. John concentrated on his left arm for just a moment, but couldn't seem to distinguish specific pain from that injury. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to keep a firm handle on the constant throb from his whole body, but especially his leg. He could feel the twitching of damaged muscles that sent shocks through his body with each beat of his heart.

He settled on what scraps of memory he had as he tried to piece together what'd happened. He'd dialed Atlantis… entered the wormhole… his eyes snapped open. "Malfunction," he whispered. He looked around, pushing aside a glimmer of panic. _Where the hell am I?_ His gaze settled again on his leg, as fear was replaced with frustration. A broken femur meant he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and if he didn't know where he was, would Atlantis be able to find him? He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. Did they even know he was alive? He grunted quietly, fighting back against the pain.

"John Sheppard?"

He looked over at Leanna's offered cup of water and pushed aside the frustration and even the pain that plagued him, giving her a small smile.

Leanna again sat down on his bed. She opened her clenched hand, revealing two rough, tan colored pills. "I'm afraid this is all I have to give you for your pain. They are designed for minor aches, sprains and soreness, not for… this, but they are better than nothing."

John clung to his smile and buried any hint of disappointment from his face. He'd about give his right arm for some of Beckett's happy drugs right now, but he'd have to find a way to make do with what appeared to be some sort of aspirin. It wasn't an encouraging thought, but he was alive, and right now, that's what mattered the most. From the looks of things, these people's resources were scarce to say the least and yet she was still offering him what she had. "Thank you."

Leanna held the cup to his mouth. He lifted his hands towards it but barely moved his left arm before he hissed and froze at the unmistakable and specific loud complaints from his shoulder.

"The sling is there for a reason, John Sheppard," she chastised lightly. "Your shoulder was out of joint. We were able to correct that while you were unconscious, but it will be sore for a while yet."

John nodded and relaxed his left arm. But he still reached up with his right hand and helped hold the cup that she offered him. He felt about as weak as a newborn child and that frustrated him further.

"Your strength will return in time, John Sheppard," Leanna correctly interpreted his irritated expression.

John drained the cup of water and let go as he settled his head back into the pillow. "Call me John," he answered, breathing deeply, before wincing again. It felt like someone was driving spikes into his chest. _What the hell else is screwed up?_ "How bad?"

Leanna's expression was reassuring. "Your long bone is the worst of your injuries, but it has been set. I mentioned your shoulder, but you also have broken chest bones, here," she lightly touched a spot on his left ribcage, "and here," her hand moved to a similar area on his right ribcage. "Though," she continued, "they will heal as well. You took a blow to the head, but it would seem you are not suffering any permanent injury from that. You have various cuts and scratches from the shattered glass window of your craft, but none of those are significant. In **time**," she stressed the last word slightly, "you will heal." Her gaze narrowed slightly. "From the looks of the crash site, you were thrown clear of your craft on impact. It is amazing that you are not injured worse, or dead."

John nodded silently. The dampeners in the jumper were probably the single reason he was alive, that and, ironically, the tree branches that, he thought he remembered, shattered the windshield before he was propelled through it. The dampeners must've blunted the crash enough that he was ejected from the jumper at only a slightly suicidal rate, not a markedly lethal one. He looked back at her. "Lucky I guess." He furrowed his brows and grunted quietly as he struggled to keep a strong grip on the throbbing from his leg and his whole body that battered his control.

Leanna reached out of his sight, towards a small table next to his bed and when he again could see her hand, she held a folded cloth in it. Gently she wiped it over his brow, removing a sheen of sweat that glossed it. "Try to sleep, John. We will talk more later."

John nodded slightly, not relishing the coming conversation. He knew she'd probably have questions that he couldn't answer, and he had no idea, on a strange world, with strange people, what impact that would have on his situation. Still, she seemed compassionate enough and had cared for him, in spite of not knowing anything about him, so he took that as at least one, good sign. "Not sure… I can sleep."

Leanna's shoulders sagged and again, she looked away.

"What?" John asked.

Her shrug was faint. "I have spent my life helping people," she answered quietly. "It is difficult to stand by and not be able to do anything more."

"Hey," John managed to get her attention and she looked back at him. "You… did what you could. Probably be dead now… if you hadn't helped me this much." Managing a weak smile, if barely, he stifled a wince. "'preciate it."

Leanna's frustrated look faded as her features warmed with a small amount of satisfaction. "Try to sleep, John." She repeated, before she stood, crossed the room and disappeared through a narrow doorway.

Left alone with his thoughts, John stared at the ceiling, the flickering lantern light almost hypnotic as drew in a deep breath, willing his body to relax as much as possible. There were things he knew she'd ask, that he wouldn't be able to tell her, and that concerned him. Still though, the rules about Atlantis' existence were absolute. He knew that more than just about anyone, considering he helped form them….

_John leaned forward and rested his arms on the conference room table. "If the Wraith ever find out that we didn't destroy ourselves, we're screwed." His stared hard at Elizabeth. "From this point forward, off-world personnel can't discuss Atlantis, under any circumstances, no matter who they're talking to. We can't risk it." His gaze narrowed. "No exceptions." _

_Elizabeth returned his look for a moment, before nodding in agreement…._

John winced and squeezed his eyes shut. If he just gave Leanna the gate address, the cavalry would come, along with Beckett and something way better than aspirin, but no exceptions meant just that. When he'd told his guys, they'd understood the meaning. Even faced with death, they wouldn't discuss Atlantis and jeopardize the city along with everyone's lives, not to mention the fate of the Milky Way Galaxy, in the process. They'd die to keep her secret, and he'd do no less.

Exhaustion pulled at him and to his surprise he felt drowsy, in spite of the pain that gradually dulled to a throb against the overwhelming needs of his body. Clearing his mind, he allowed himself to drift off.

* * *

_There has to be a reason. He's not just…_ Rodney spared a glance at Teyla, who tensely leaned against the balcony railing, her gaze fixed on the inactive Stargate. She'd taken the news quietly, her questions soft and focused, before she'd left him in silence. Never leaving Ops, her presence was subtle, but even Rodney could feel the level of confidence she felt. Like him, she refused to give up on Sheppard, even if she never vocalized it. Sometimes, it amazed Rodney at how quickly they'd all become so tight with each other. The pain of losing Ford was still fresh to her and, though he'd never admit it, to him too. He knew Sheppard had carried… _still carries, damn it,_ the guilt over not saving Ford, but like Teyla, he kept it in silence.

Rodney felt a twang of guilt, before he refocused his thoughts on his work, his hands flying over his laptop, their pace not slowed by the hours of searching now behind him. To lose Sheppard now, so soon after Ford… Rodney sucked in a deep breath. _No!_

"Uhh… Dr. McKay?" Chuck's hesitant voice interrupted Rodney's work. "You might want to take a look at this."

Rodney looked up at him. "What?"

Chuck pointed at his laptop. "I've been working through the diagnostics on M9H-551's gate."

Rodney straightened. "And that tells me exactly nothing." Ignoring Chuck's eye roll, Rodney walked over and turned the laptop towards him. He squinted at the results. "What the hell…" He tapped his headset. "Dr. Weir to Ops immediately." He glanced up at Teyla, as she walked over to him.

"What is it Rodney?" Zelenka pushed his chair back from the console he'd been working at and wheeled over to them. Stopping next to Rodney, he scanned the data.

"That is not good," Zelenka muttered.

"No," Rodney agreed quietly, all other snappy replies to Zelenka's obvious statement, lost on him as his gaze fixed on Teyla. "It's not."

"Rodney?" Weir walked up next to him.

Rodney took a deep breath before turning and facing Weir. "The energy readings from M9H-551's gate," he explained, "they dropped to near zero about half way into what should've been Sheppard's transit."

"What does that mean?" Weir asked.

Rodney pulled a chair over and sat down heavily. "When physical matter is being transported through a wormhole, there's a massive spike in energy output, which makes sense if you consider that the energy required to transmit matter is directly proportional to its mass." He pointed at the graphical display of energy output on the laptop. "That should've spiked when Sheppard passed into the wormhole and stayed consistently high until he emerged here. Instead, it dropped to zero at about the halfway point of his transit. That was the time our gate disengaged."

Weir visibly sagged, though her expression remained stoic. "Then he was in transit when the wormhole shut down."

Rodney nodded slowly. "From the data we're getting from M9H-551's gate, yes."

Teyla took a step forward. "Then he is…"

"Yes," Rodney interrupted, stopping Teyla before she said the words he wasn't ready to hear. "Probably a gate malfunction. Radio signals require little or no additional power, which explains why we can still communicate with the science team."

Weir pulled in a loud, uneven breath. "Notify Brickman's team they'll have to stay put until we can detour the Daedalus to pick them up. They can still communicate with us, but no one is to attempt transport." She paused for a long moment and swallowed hard before continuing. "Then dial Earth and get me General Landry at the SGC. Route it as a private transmission to my office." Without another word, she turned and quickly crossed the catwalk to her office.

Rodney slowly rolled his chair up to the laptop and stared at the diagnostic from M9H-551's gate. "Contact Brinkman's team," he said quietly.

"Rodney, are you sure?" Teyla asked quietly.

He couldn't answer her as he continued staring at the laptop display. Logic, rationale, facts, everything pointed to the conclusion he didn't want to believe, but something else, something… esoteric pushed at him.

"Rodney?"

He felt Teyla's warm hand on his shoulder but he ignored it. His gaze intensified, his world narrowing down to just that line graph and nothing else. Something was there. He couldn't explain it, couldn't rationalize it, but couldn't deny it either. There was something he was missing. In the back of his mind, he knew all of this could be an emotional response; a denial of the reality that Sheppard was…

Rodney dismissed the thought. It wasn't that, he was sure of it. There was something he was missing, he was positive.

* * *

Consciousness roared back to him, spurred by a relentless spike in agony he was completely unprepared for. Tension ripped through his body and tore a hoarse shout from his throat. Gripping the sides of the bed, John's eyes flew open with his second, broken cry. Gasping, he forced himself to breathe and stifled a third cry. Somewhere in the background, he heard the door open and caught movement in his peripheral vision, but he couldn't do anything except try to ride out the pain. His grunt was strangled as he squeezed his eyes closed. Sweat trickled down his brow and he coughed before gasping loudly.

"John."

He felt her reassuring grip on his forearm and the cool cloth returned to his brow.

"Breathe deeply," Leanna urged quietly. "The spasms will pass."

John sucked in a deep, stuttering breath through his nose and noisily let it escape through his mouth. He repeated the process, tension leaving his body as the contracting muscles in his legs slowly relaxed. "What… the hell…" he finally managed.

"Muscle spasms," Leanna answered. "They are common in an injury such as this."

John nodded and swallowed hard. A moment later, Leanna produced a glass of water which he sipped gratefully. "Thanks…."

"Sleep again, John," Leanna urged. "It will help you heal."

John's thoughts touched briefly on the tortured agony that had torn him from sleep and part of him was apprehensive to let his guard down like that again; to be ripped apart the way he just had been.

Leanna brushed the cool cloth over his forehead again, and her grip on his arm tightened slightly in reassurance. "Sleep." She insisted.

John's eyelids drooped as exhaustion pulled him inexorably towards unconsciousness and silently, he succumbed.

It felt like the bliss only lasted a few moments, before his hands flew from his sides, latching onto his mattress; the only thing he could crush under his grip as the hacksaw that he swore had attacked his leg over and over, returned again, relentlessly tearing it apart. A hoarse shout burst from his sore throat, bringing footsteps into the room. Through blurred vision, John could see the form of a large man quickly cross the room to him. He stopped close to the bed and as John's vision cleared slightly, he got a good look at him. The man's features were gruff and weather worn, but his expression was compassionate. The sawing in his leg redoubled and his eyes flew shut a strangled groan escaping him. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Easy son," the man encouraged. "Deep breaths now."

John's mind focused on his voice. Void of the rich brogue that was a hallmark of Atlantis' doctor, the man's voice still reminded John of Carson, and he latched onto that familiarity, letting it sooth him. After a minute, the pain snapped, leaving him panting and exhausted. "Damn… it," he managed.

John's mind focused on his voice, one that was void of the rich brogue that was a hallmark of Atlantis' infirmary, but still it reminded John of Carson. He latched onto that familiarity, letting it soothe him.

"They will subside," the man answered.

John looked at him through heavy eyelids. "Who… Leanna…?"

"I am Carren. Leanna is sleeping." He held out a cup of water and two more pills. "Take these and some water, then sleep."

Too weak and exhausted to argue, even if he wanted to, John opened his mouth and accepted the pills and relished the cool water's effect on his throat. He nodded slowly, his head moving against the pillow. "Thanks," he whispered.

"You're welcome. Now, sleep," Carren insisted.

John lost the battle against his drooping eyelids as his breathing evened out. He felt, just for a minute, like he was floating, and then felt nothing else.

* * *

"Rodney?"

Teyla's soft voice called at him again, but Rodney paid her no heed. His subconscious mind focused on something and pushed at him, nudging him, insisting that he'd see what it was, if he'd just look a little harder. All his life, Rodney'd had, what some colleagues had called, an uncanny knack for seeing past what was in front of him. Maybe it was instinct, or intelligence, he didn't know which one, but that same something that had convinced everyone that he really was as brilliant as he thought he was, now nudged him again.

Rodney's unfocused gaze cleared and he quickly reached forward, typing another command on the laptop. A second line graph superimposed itself over the first one. Rodney's gaze widened. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. He smacked his headset. "Elizabeth, you might want to come back out here."

"What is it, Rodney?" Zelenka questioned as he looked over Rodney's shoulder.

"That!" Rodney pointed at the laptop, crushing despair under steeled resolve and strong hope.

"Bože můj!" Zelenka whispered.

"What have you found?" Teyla asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between Rodney and Zelenka.

"A chance," Rodney muttered, his eyes glued to the computer screen.

"Rodney?" Weir walked back into Ops. "What is it?"

Finally, Rodney did look up, hope permeating his expression as he pointed at the laptop screen. "There was a 1.27 second delay between when our gate shut down, and the power levels from M9H-551's gate dropped to zero."

"What…" Weir's voice was confused.

"There was a delay!" Rodney's voice rose slightly in volume. "There were 1.27 seconds before the wormhole collapsed."

"I do not see how 1.27 seconds would make any difference," Teyla replied.

"Considering we can travel across entire galaxies in ten seconds, that's an eternity in wormhole travel," Rodney answered, excitedly. "Maybe the wormhole did jump to another gate."

Weir turned away and rubbed her brow before facing him again. "I thought you said that required massive amounts of energy?"

"To do it accidentally and randomly yes," Rodney answered, holding strong to his resolve, "but what if there's a safety protocol to protect the traveler in case something happens to the gate during transit?"

"Then why hasn't he dialed back yet?" Chuck interjected.

Rodney sent a scathing glare his direction. "I don't know! Maybe he can't. There could be a dozen reasons for that!"

"Rodney," Weir's voice was firm. "You're reaching."

"What?" Rodney insisted. Instinctively, he knew he was right. He couldn't explain it and maybe it was his emotions talking but he just knew. "It makes sense."

"You have a theory that happens to fit the situation," Weir responded. She lowered her voice. "We need to keep a perspective."

"Elizabeth," Teyla added, "If Rodney is right…"

Rodney took a deep breath. "What if I can prove it?" He let out his pent up breath noisily. "I'm just… I'm not ready to write him off. Not yet."

Weir stared at him for a moment longer before she looked at Zelenka, her expression guarded but hopeful. "What do you think, Radek?"

"Why ask him?" Frustration drove Rodney's response. "I'm right and he knows it!"

Weir fixed him with a strong look. "I want you to be right as much as anyone else, Rodney," she answered, "but you're also very close to this. John's a member of your team." She spared a moment to give an understanding look to Teyla who nodded once, conceding the point.

Rodney clenched his jaw, but said nothing. Her tone left no room for argument and as strong as he felt, he knew it.

Weir looked back at Zelenka. "Radek?"

Rodney silently stared at Zelenka whose expression was slightly hesitant. After a moment, he took a deep breath and met Weir's gaze. "What Rodney says is, theoretically possible." He nodded once to himself. "Yes. Yes, it is possible that, if the protocols exist, there was enough time for Colonel Sheppard to be redirected to another, nearby planet, before the wormhole completely collapsed."

Weir's slight smile was grim. She nodded slightly. "Investigate this. Use whatever resources you need, but I want answers. If you're right, Rodney, then we have a man stranded on an unknown planet who needs our help and we need to find him." She took a deep breath. "If you're not… then we need to know. Delay contacting the SGC until we know more." She walked across Ops to stand on the balcony overlooking the Stargate. For a moment, she was still, before she turned back, facing them. She nodded once, almost to herself. "Let's start a methodical search of planets close to M9H-551. If you're wrong… well, we won't have lost anything but time. But if John is out there and he hasn't dialed back," she sighed deeply. "he's more than likely in trouble and we need to find him as soon as possible."

"We can send MALPs through to scan for the jumper," Zelenka offered. "If he is alive, then it is reasonable that he would not have ventured far from the gate unless absolutely necessary. If it was necessary then at least we've found the right planet and…."

"Let's start with finding the jumper, Radek," Elizabeth interrupted smoothly.

"I can help," Teyla smiled slightly at Radek. "Some of the addresses may be planets my people have visited."

Elizabeth nodded. "Keep me posted."

"Right." Rodney's reply was choppy as he sidestepped Zelenka and made a beeline for the Ancient console that controlled access to the database.

Zelenka nodded. "I will start plotting gate addresses immediately."

Rodney didn't bother responding as he immersed himself in the database. He knew he was looking for a needle in a haystack, given the size of the database, but deep down, he also knew he was right.

------------------

Pain had been his constant companion all night. Sometimes, Leanna would be there and sometimes Carren. Every time, John would eventually succumb to exhaustion, and every time, agony would rip him from sleep's bliss, leaving him gasping and swearing that he wouldn't sleep again. But, his body's demands couldn't be deterred, and they cycle of sleep and pain would start anew until the edge of exhaustion was gone. Then, he'd clung to consciousness, wary of the uncontrollable, traumatized, muscles in his leg and when that time came, he wasn't sure if the conscious anticipation was any better than being horribly torn from sleep.

In the darkness, beat back only by the flickering lamp and candle lights, his mind wandered. Did Atlantis have any idea where he was or even if he was alive? Were they even looking? John swallowed hard and reassured himself. He could see Elizabeth standing in Ops, ordering search; Rodney's hands furiously flying over his laptop keyboard, searching for answers. If anyone could figure out what happened and find him, McKay would. John was certain of that. He breathed as deeply as he could against his broken ribs and coughed weakly. He just had to hang on until they did.

At some point, he must've dozed off, because the next thing John remembered, was the sound of footsteps near his bed. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head, watching as Leanna gently fingered the traction surrounding his leg, testing the tension in each strand of wire. Apparently, he'd slept through daybreak, as light from three large windows streamed into the room making every one of Leanna's moves fully visible.

She caught his gaze and paused, before smiling a little. "Sorry. I did not mean to wake you."

John inhaled, wincing as his broken ribs protested. He felt like he'd been on a ten mile run, bent in half and sent through a ringer three times. Spikes of pain poked him in the temples in counter beat to his leg and he swore he could feel the protesting from every single muscle in his body. He took a moment to get control of the persistent throb from his leg before trusting himself to speak. "It's okay." His gaze settled on the traction. "Good?"

Leanna stepped away from his bed and nodded. "Yes." She walked over to the table and made notes on a crude tablet of paper.

John watched her for a moment, questions flying through his head. "What world is this?"

Leanna didn't look up. "Danar."

John searched his memory, but drew a blank. He hadn't heard of it for sure, but they were still getting to know all the trading partners Teyla had. It was possible she'd know. _Have to ask her when she gets here…. _ He refocused his attention on Leanna. "Is it just you and Carren here?"

This time, she did look at him. "Not always. There are others around, though far less than before…." her voice trailed off and she looked away and drew in a deep breath.

John's gaze narrowed slightly. "Before what?"

Her gaze returned to his. "The culling," her strong voice broke ever so slightly on the last word and she seemed to struggle for a moment to hang onto her reassuring expression.

This time it was John's turn to look away. They'd heard that many planets were being nearly stripped of all human life, since the Wraith had awoke so soon, but to see it first hand, to know he woke them… John pushed the thoughts away. "I'm sorry." He looked back up at her. "What happened?"

Leanna cocked her head just a little and gave him a measured look, almost like she was considering whether or not she wanted to tell him anything. Finally, she shrugged. "Chaos," she answered. She pushed the papers away from her and leaned heavily on the table, her gaze averted from his. "Like all worlds, cullings are a way of life for us. They happen and we rebuild, holding onto who we are, and our knowledge any way we can. But this time… was different."

She dropped her head, staring at an unrecognizable spot on the table. "There were not many of us left, by the time the Wraith were done. That was almost a year ago. Since then, we have survived, making do with what we have. The cities of our world were scoured of all human life. Those of us that survived, lived outside of them at the time of the culling. We rely on each other to survive, to fight the lawless bandits that roam freely and to try to rebuild our lives." She looked up, giving him an intense and resolute gaze as she stared hard at him. "Carren and I do what we can to care for what is left of our people. We make what we need, when we can, get by with what we have… and without what we don't have," she looked away. "Sometimes, it is not enough," she finished quietly.

John forced himself to sit up straighter in his bed, pushing aside his own injuries and trying to focus on what she was telling him. He furrowed his brow in compassion for the obvious tragedy she'd endured, but part of him respected her for the strength she and the survivors must've had in order to survive in the first place and for her resolve to help whenever they could. "Are you a doctor?" He stared at her confused look. "Healer?" he amended, pulling on his knowledge of what Teyla had taught them about Pegasus.

Leanna shook her head. "No. Carren and I were assistants. We both know much about medicine and helping people, but we are not trained healers." She sighed. "Ours was killed in the attack. In the year since the culling, we have not found a single one that survived."

John nodded, storing away all the information she told him. "Why don't you leave? Go to another world?" he asked.

"Where would we go?" Leanna's expression was strained as she stared at the opposite wall. "People that are willing to trade, are not necessarily willing to take in refugees. Besides," she shrugged, "our dialing device was destroyed."

"Oh hell," John muttered.

She looked at him and her gaze narrowed for a moment before she pushed back from the table and straightened. She drew in a deep breath and let it out quickly.

John watched her as she busied herself arranging instruments, before crossing the large room and opening a tall cabinet. His mind turned over what she'd said as he prioritized her comments. No DHD was definitely a problem, but if Atlantis sent a MALP first, they'd see that and a jumper had its own DHD.... He shook off the thought. _They have to find you first, Hotshot. _If he could get to the jumper, he might be able to fix the DHD and dial… his gaze settled on his leg and he sighed quietly. _Damn._ His thoughts turned to other things Leanna had mentioned.

"Leanna?" He waited until she backed up a step, her head clearing the large cabinet door. She looked at him questioningly.

"You mentioned bandits." John waved his right hand at the table. "That looks like my stuff. I was wearing a weapon. Is it there?"

She stared at him for a moment. "We have not seen bandits here in some time."

"That' just makes you ripe for the pickin'," John countered. "I'm confined to a bed. I don't want to be defenseless too."

She walked over to the table and picked up John's holstered nine mil before carrying it over to him.

John took it and, in spite of his stiff left shoulder, held tight to the holster while he easily pulled the gun with his right hand. Checking the clip, he made sure the safety was on before sliding it under the right side of his mattress, out of sight but easily in reach. He dropped the holster next to the bed and looked up, meeting her intense stare.

"Where are you from, John?" Leanna asked simply.

John took a deep breath, steeling himself against the inevitable conversation. "Another world. I came through the Stargate… the Ancestral Ring," he added remembering what the Athosians called it.

Leanna nodded and seemed to mull over his words for a moment, before she spoke again. "We had many trading partners that came through the Ancestral Ring, before our dialing device was destroyed, but none in crafts such as yours. Only the Wraith possess such technology."

"Well, we're no friends of the Wraith," John flashed her a quick, reassuring smile, but her expression remained guarded.

"I have never seen anything like it," she answered with a note of suspicion.

John's gaze narrowed slightly. He couldn't be completely truthful with her, but he refused to lie. He needed her trust and her help. Without either he'd be in worse trouble than he already was. "We found it in our travels."

Leanna's expression hardened. "What world are you from, John?" she asked plainly, apparently tired of the verbal sparring.

John sighed. "I can't tell you that," he answered, returning her bluntness with some of his own. "I'm sorry."

Leanna stiffened, her expression cold and suspicious. "I see."

Wincing against his protesting body, John pushed himself up on his elbows. "Leanna," he breathed through the spikes of pain in his chest and tried to tune out the wave of pain from his leg, before continuing, "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm here by mistake, some sort of gate malfunction, I don't know." He gave her the most sincere look he could muster. "Please, trust me."

She stared long and hard in to his eyes before nodding hesitantly. She took a deep breath. "Lie still, John. Your leg must remain immobile to heal. I will send Carren in shortly. I think you would be more comfortable with a man to help you with… certain needs you must have?"

John thought for a minute and suddenly was very aware of his body's demands. "Yeah," he blushed slightly. "I think so."

Leanna gave him a guarded, but gentle smile. "I will see what food I can find for you as well." She turned and headed for the door.

"Leanna?" John's call stopped her and she turned to face him. He nodded once, slowly. "Thank you."

She returned his nod and left without another word.

* * *

Rodney's gaze remained fixed on the screen in front of him as he tried to tune out the kawoosh of the wormhole behind him, just as he had for the countless number of gate activations that preceded it. Zelenka was nothing, if not efficient, and Rodney trusted that he'd plotted each possible destination, based on time, velocity and every other astrophysical and mathematical variable, and now was methodically dialing each one. He didn't need Rodney's help and Rodney knew it.

So, Rodney kept to himself; just him and the database; the same as it'd been for longer than he'd kept track of. Behind him, staff had rotated, each shift being replaced with the other as light, then darkness, then light again streamed through the stained glass windows in the gate room. He'd barely left his seat in all that time, the only companion he'd allowed was data, information… enlightenment. It was exactly how he liked it. How he'd always liked it. But this time, he found no joy in his quest for knowledge. He'd never trade his intelligence, or his logical mind for anything, but there were times when he wondered if it was more of curse than a gift and this was one of those times. Persistent his rational mind nudged him, poked him, demanded to be heard. _You're reaching, Rodney…_ He knew he was. He knew it was likely that Sheppard was gone, and he knew he was going on a hunch as much as any tangible facts. But, maybe Sheppard had rubbed off on him, at least a little. In the back of his mind he just **knew** he was right and he wasn't prepared to give up.

Typing a new search command, he sat back and rubbed his eyes, briefly pondering another cup of coffee, as the system carried out his search. He knew, were their positions reversed, Sheppard would be doing the same for him. Maybe not actually searching the database himself, but Rodney could almost see him pacing Ops, looking over everyone's shoulders, impatient for an update and stubbornly refusing to believe his teammate was…

Rodney inhaled and sat forward, his mind turning away from that one word, as it had every time it even occurred to him, since this whole ordeal started. _No._

"Yes!" Zelenka abruptly exclaimed. "Dr. Weir to Ops!"

Rodney spun in his chair as Teyla quickly walked around him.

"What is it, Radek?" She asked.

"Positive readings for the jumper's hull alloy," Zelenka looked up, his expression hopeful.

Rodney rolled his chair over to Zelenka's workstation and scrutinized the data. "Oh yeah," he muttered. "That's definitely a jumper."

"Jumper?" Weir walked up behind Zelenka and looked down at his laptop display. "Can the MALP give us a picture?"

"No," Zelenka faced his computer and furiously tapped keys. "Reading through what appears to be a very thick stand of trees. MALP cannot get close enough."

Rodney jumped from his chair and smacked the console, opening a communications channel. "Jumper One, this is Atlantis, do you copy?" He looked over at Teyla, exchanging somber looks as silence greeted his hail. "Colonel Sheppard this is McKay. Please respond."

"There could be other reasons he's not answering," Zelenka said quietly.

"He may be injured, or… unable to answer us. We must gate to the planet immediately." Teyla insisted.

Rodney stared hard at Weir for a moment, before she nodded once and tapped her headset. "Major Lorne, report to Ops and bring Dr. Beckett with you."

Rodney took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering as he turned it on Teyla. He looked back at Weir, but she spoke first.

"I'm sure Major Lorne would be willing to have both of you go with his team," her small smile was grim, but held a hopeful note.

* * *

John panted quietly as another round of spasms passed, the pain in his leg dulling back to a throb and a tickle in his chest triggered a weak coughing fit. He felt hot, but knew it would pass, and he'd be chilled soon enough. Begrudgingly, he couldn't deny that somewhere in the last few hours, he'd spiked a fever. If the tickle in his chest was any indication, his broken ribs and shallow breathing had caught up with him and things would probably get worse, before they got better. "Damn it," he muttered. As if he needed anything to get worse. He glanced at the closed door. Ever since their conversation, Leanna had been scarce. Not that he could blame her. In her shoes, with the sketchy answers to pretty direct questions, he'd be suspicious too. John sighed, and coughed a little. By his reckoning, it'd been almost two days. Not that long for even McKay to figure out what had happened and for Atlantis to find him. John closed his eyes. He had to hold on, give them the time they needed to find him.

He turned his head as the door opened and Carren walked in. Over the course of several encounters, John had found the big man to be a bit gruff, but sensible and helpful. Like Leanna, Carren's clothing was worn and bore the marks of several repairs. Since the last time John had seen him, Carren had added a fleece vest over his lightweight shirt, it's collar just brushing the ends of his graying hair. The hard soles of his boots echoed on the floor as he crossed the room.

"John," Carren's deep voice was still soft. "How are you?"

John stifled a cough. "Fine."

Carren's eyes passed over him. "That's not what I expected to hear." His eyes narrowed as he met John's gaze. "You're fevered."

Briefly, John remembered the guilty and helpless look on Leanna's face when she'd had nothing to offer him for the pain, but her support and aspirin. He breathed as deeply as he could. "I'll be alright."

Carren pursed his lips and nodded once, almost knowingly. "Leanna said you have a weapon of some sort?"

John stiffened a little. "Yeah," he answered warily.

"Keep it close," Carren answered. "One of the farmers told us the lawless were in the area." He shook his head. "It's been a while. They can't expect us to have anything of value anymore." He muttered.

"You and Leanna," John sat up a little, "do you have any way to defend yourselves?"

Carren shook his head. "We've never had to in the past. We've always given them whatever they wanted and they left us alone." He shrugged. "We have nothing to give them anymore."

John tensed and winced, tuning out his body's protesting. "They're not going to like that."

Motionless, Carren just stared back at him. "No, they will not."

"Which brings me back to my original question," John answered. "Do you and Leanna have any way to defend yourselves?"

"Not really." Carren shrugged.

John's elbows shook and begrudgingly he let himself settle back into the bed. "How many men and what kinds of weapons do they have?"

"Knives, swords, axes, some guns. There are usually about twenty, but their number varies."

"I can put up a pretty good fight, if I have to," John insisted. "If there's trouble, you two make sure to get in here with me."

Carren's look turned skeptical as his eyes passed over John's injured body.

"Okay," John conceded bitterly, "I admit I don't look that menacing at the moment, but this," he reached under the mattress and pulled out his nine mil, "is a pretty efficient weapon." His gaze narrowed. "I'll use it if they don't give me a choice."

Carren nodded thoughtfully. "You're a soldier," he stated, his tone lacking any question.

John stared back at him for a moment before he nodded once. "Yes." He slipped the nine mil back under his mattress.

Carren smiled slightly. "Good to know."

John coughed a couple times, weakly. "Yeah, well, I'd be more help if I wasn't tied to a bed," he looked down at the traction, "literally."

Carren walked over to the tall cabinet and returned with another blanket. Wordlessly, he spread it out over John. "I know you're hot, but keep both blankets on." He stepped back. "Leanna or I will bring you some herbal tea. It will help your cough."

John let his head settle into the thin pillow. "Thanks."

"The spasms?" Carren stared intently at him.

"They seem to be letting up," John sighed quietly. "Not happening as often."

Carren nodded. "Try to rest." Carren turned and quietly left the room.

John stared at the ceiling as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

_Come on, guys. Find me._

* * *

The tingle of wormhole travel faded as Teyla emerged from the Stargate and looked around, her gaze passing over Major Lorne's back and proceeding past him to fix on the tall trees, not far from their position.

"Reading is coming from that direction," Rodney stopped next to the MALP and pointed towards the trees.

Lorne nodded and tapped his headset. "Colonel Sheppard this is Major Lorne, do you copy?"

"He didn't respond to us when we tried to hail him from Atlantis," Rodney's voice was tense and held a note of annoyance, but Lorne only started at him, deadpan.

"He might now," Beckett stopped on the other side of Lorne.

"Oh right," Rodney snapped, "because his radio that wasn't working, is now magically repaired in this world of miracles and fairy tales!"

"Want to keep it down, McKay?" Lorne shot him an icy look. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Major Lorne. Please respond."

"Fine," Rodney muttered. "If it makes you feel better." He walked around Teyla and stared at his detector before punching a couple keys.

Lorne ignored him and waved at the two other members of his team. "Coffey, Simpson, you guys are on gate duty. Radio check in 20 minutes." He looked towards the trees. "I'm on point, Teyla take the six. McKay which way?"

"Straight ahead. About 1200 meters."

"Half mile," Lorne muttered.

"Seven tenths, actually, but who's counting?" Rodney's tone was acerbic.

"You are, apparently," Beckett commented quietly.

"It is not far," Teyla insisted. "It will not take us long to get there."

"Let's move," Lorne insisted. "McKay, fall in behind me and keep us on the right trajectory."

"Really? And here I thought you wanted to just wander aimlessly around the woods!" Rodney snapped. "Your eleven o'clock," he pointed.

"Without the running commentary," Lorne muttered as he headed off in the direction Rodney had indicated.

"Whatever." Rodney followed right behind him.

Teyla motioned to Beckett who followed Rodney and she fell in behind him. As they crossed the short expanse of grass and started into the trees, Teyla, while sharp to her surroundings, let her thoughts wander. She suspected she knew the reason for Rodney's behavior, for while he was always… difficult to relate to, right now it was nearly impossible to speak to him without suffering for it. But, Teyla believed, he used it to hide other feelings he was loathe to share and deep down, he was as worried about Colonel Sheppard as they all were.

Her thoughts lingered on their team leader. It was not so long ago when she had met him for the first time and instantly felt a connection with him; a deep and inherent trust that she could not explain. Her mother had told her, many times that her instincts were strong and she would do well to listen to them in her trading for they would tell her who she could trust, and who she could not. From the moment she met John Sheppard she knew she could trust him.

She pushed aside a branch as they wove through the trees. That trust had been reciprocated faster and deeper than she had expected. It was as if, once he had decided she was trustworthy, she had his completely. It had surprised her, how he had brought her into his team, treated her as an equal, and had solicited her opinion, all without question. But, as they had faced battle together, so many times, and struggled to preserve Atlantis and both their peoples, she had come to learn that there were many things about John Sheppard that were, as his people called it, black and white; absolute. Trust was one. Fighting another, and the survival of his team yet one more. To John Sheppard there was no surrender, no giving up, especially where his team was involved. He had saved her life more than once and now, with his life hanging in the balance, she would do the same for him.

For a moment, the thought that maybe he had indeed perished sprang to her mind, but she immediately crushed it. John Sheppard would have never stopped looking for any of them, until someone proved beyond any doubts, that they were dead. If there was even a chance they were alive, he would cross the galaxy to find them. She owed him the same strength of spirit.

"Just ahead."

McKay's words interrupted her thoughts. Teyla stepped over a log and stopped next to Beckett who silently stood just behind and off to the side of Lorne and McKay. No one said a word as her gaze passed over the small clearing.

It was a jumper that much was certain, but beyond that, it was hard to tell anything else. Low hanging branches draped over it and moss, lichens and other forest fauna covered the crumbling hull and what was left of the windshield. One drive pod lay close to the jumper itself, but was barely recognizable through the moss that covered it. All around it, any signs of a crash were long erased by time and the encroaching forest. Whenever this jumper had crashed, had been a very long time ago.

Teyla closed her eyes for a moment, her hope battered by disappointment. "This is not Colonel Sheppard's jumper." She knew she was stating the obvious but felt compelled to do so anyway.

"Not a chance," Lorne agreed. "This has been here a long time."

"Ten thousand years is a good bet," Rodney muttered. "Can't believe any of it is still intact."

"Then where is Colonel Sheppard?" Beckett wondered aloud.

"Obviously not here!" Rodney snapped before turning marching a half dozen steps towards the gate. He looked back. "Let's go?" His gaze was pointed.

Teyla met Lorne's gaze before she sighed quietly, trying to quell her disappointment.

"We'll find him," Lorne answered. He walked over to Rodney. "Back to the gate and Atlantis. Move. We still need to find the Colonel."

Teyla once again fell in behind Becket and stared hard at his back as she tried to hold onto hope.

* * *

John breathed as deeply as he could as he opened his eyes. Sweat ticked his upper lip and beaded on his forehead and heat radiated through his body. But, that wasn't what woke him. What did were the barely hushed voices coming from just outside his room. Squinting, he tried to focus on what they were saying.

"… don't care… found his craft. They know someone survived and they're looking for him."

John's brows furrowed. He couldn't place the emphatic male voice. The only man he knew was Carren, and he was positive that wasn't him.

"His condition is serious. He can't be moved, not for a long time yet, and we're not turning him over to them."

John's adrenaline spiked at the unmistakable voice of Leanna and at her words. _Turn him over to who?_ From the sound of her voice, whoever it was, didn't seem like the nice type. He furrowed his brows, refocusing on the conversation.

"Leanna, the only reason none of you have been hurt or killed is because you've always given them what they wanted. If you say no now, who knows what they'll do? People that say no, get killed more often than not. You know that. You've seen it. Who is this man to us? He is a stranger. We know nothing about him and from what you've said, he's reluctant to reveal much about himself. Yet, you care for him, use our dwindling supplies to help him and now are prepared to risk all our lives for his?"

"Of course we helped him, Lars," Leanna answered, her barely whispered voice holding a hint of anger. "What were we supposed to do? Leave him to die? That would make us no better than those lawless bastards we hold in contempt."

"How many of those fluid sets do you have left, Leanna? How many more times can you sterilize them before they're useless? Then what will you do when one of our own needs it?"

"We find another way," Leanna answered flatly. "But I will not deny him care simply because he is not one of us."

"Leanna…"

"He's my responsibility," Leanna interrupted. "I won't turn him over to them."

John swallowed hard as a scuffle of footsteps followed Leanna's statement and the corridor was quiet again. His mind raced. _Who?_ His best guess were the lawless men Leanna and Carren had spoken of. It seemed pretty likely they'd find his jumper, if they knew their land and roamed it regularly. John sighed and coughed weakly. While not outfitted for an op, the jumper still carried, as standard, a backup supply of small arms. There were at least 3 nine mils and ammunition that he had to assume they'd found. "Great," he muttered. He looked over as the door opened and Leanna walked in. She stopped just inside the room and looked at him, her gaze questioning.

John nodded. "I heard," he answered quietly.

Leanna sighed and looked away. "That is a worry that you don't need right now, John."

"Like hell it is," John answered, hardening his tone. "If there's something going on, I need to know about it, otherwise I can't help you as effectively. Do you understand?" He paused for a moment and let his words sink in. He knew he was taking a strong tone with her, but if his instincts were right, things were about to get really dicey. He needed her to help him, so he could help her and she had to understand that.

He pushed away his guilt for being the recipient of irreplaceable medical supplies and concentrated on the problem of the moment. There would be time for gratitude later and if… when, Atlantis found him, he'd make sure Leanna's people had whatever they needed and way more than he'd used. "Tell me what's happening," he insisted.

Leanna looked at him for a minute before she nodded, grabbed a stool and sat down next to his bed. "Several of the local farmers have seen a large group of lawless men in the area. It sounds like they found your craft, for they're carrying additional weapons that seem to be very much like the one you have. They've…" she looked away for a moment, "attacked several homesteads in the past couple days. The survivors say they're looking for a stranger; someone who would've been with your craft." She looked back at him. "They're hunting for you, John."

John clenched his jaw in anger, mostly at the bandits, but also at the situation that would get innocent people hurt because of him… a situation he was, at the moment, powerless to change. "Surprised they didn't come her first," he answered.

Leanna shrugged. "There are several homesteads between your crashed ship and here. They're being methodical."

An uncontrollable tick in his chest sparked a weak coughing fit. He felt Leanna's hand on his shoulder and when it passed he pulled in as deep a breath as he could. Before, facing mostly swords, knives and axes, he'd felt pretty confident about his ability to defend himself, Leanna and Carren if necessary, but now…. John stared hard at her. "Where are they, do you know?"

Leanna shook her head. "Not for sure, but if they follow the same path they've been on, they're close. It won't be long until they come here."

"When they do," John reached up and grabbed her hand, "you and Carren and anyone else need to get to me," he insisted. "I'll defend you… as best I can."

Leanna's gaze strengthened. "We are not defenseless, John. We just do not fight unless we have to."

A small smile of respect turned up one side of his mouth. "That's good," he answered. His smile faded as fast as it appeared. "I think you're going to have to this time."

After a moment, she nodded silently before standing and turning away.

"Leanna," John's words stopped her and she looked back at him. John let gratitude warm his features. "I appreciate all you've done for me, especially since I haven't exactly been straight forward with you about who I am. I know your medicine and supplies are scarce."

"John…"

"Let me finish," he insisted. "When my people find me… and they will find me, we'll help you and your people. I just… we just need to hang on until they do, okay?"

Slowly, a warm smile spread over her face, the first one he'd seen since he'd evaded her questions the day before. Without another word, she left him alone.

John reached under the mattress, his hand brushing over the solid grip of his nine mil. Immobilized and sick, he knew he couldn't put up much of a fight, especially if these guys were any kind of organized, but that didn't mean he was going to go down without trying.

John's thoughts turned to Leanna and Carren. They'd already given a lot to him to help him survive, but if push came to shove, he wouldn't ask them to give their lives too. If he had to, he'd surrender to the outlaws to save them. John's thoughts lingered for a minute on that unpleasant possibility before he sighed quietly, the action sparking another coughing fit. He was hot and fevered and instead of feeling better, he was feeling progressively worse. His thoughts turned again, this time to Atlantis. _Come on, McKay!_

* * *

Rodney jumped slightly as the laptop beeped insistently at him. His gaze narrowed on the text that scrolled by him before he reached out, slapping the spacebar on the keypad and pausing the data scroll. His eyes widened, before he fumbled with his headset. "McKay to Weir!"

"Rodney?" Zelenka looked over at him, but Rodney didn't pay him any heed. "Dr. Weir, this is McKay, please respond." He looked at Zelenka. "Get Lorne and Teyla up here."

"This is Weir."

Weir's voice was gravelly, and he knew he'd woken her from sleep; something Beckett had insisted on for all of them, not that Rodney had bothered to acquiesce. "Elizabeth, I've found something," he answered urgently.

"I'm on my way," her voice instantly cleared, "Weir out."

"What is it, Rodney?" Zelenka insisted.

Rodney looked at him and allowed a small smile for the first time since this ordeal started. "Our answer."

* * *

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders as she trotted up the last few steps to Ops. Her gaze fixed on Rodney and for a moment she scrutinized him. His clothing was wrinkled and while his gaze was still sharp, there were distinct circles under his eyes. She suspected that despite Beckett's orders, Rodney hadn't slept at all. She shook her head slightly, making a mental note to have him put to bed, forcibly if necessary, if this went on too much longer. He'd gone three days without sleep during the siege, and still managed to complete work on a half done nuclear bomb, but she didn't like putting any of her staff in that position at all, if she could help it.

Elizabeth pushed aside the thoughts. "What is it, Rodney?"

Rodney rolled back to his laptop and punched a few keys. Obligingly, the large display hanging behind them, flickered then started scrolling data by them. Rodney tapped his keyboard again and the display froze. "Here." He stood up and sidestepped her before walking over to the display and pointing to a specific set of information.

Elizabeth squinted at it, her mind easily translating the Ancient. She abruptly stopped reading her jaw dropping. "Oh my god."

"Can someone translate that for those of us not up on our Ancient?" Lorne asked pointedly.

Elizabeth flashed him a quick understanding smile. "Sorry Major." She pointed at the display. "Rodney was right."

"Damn straight I was," Rodney interrupted. "The Ancients built in a subroutine in the astronomical chance that protocols and safety redundancies failed and a wormhole faced imminent collapse while someone was in transit." He pointed again at the specific passage. "According to the database, in the event all safety features fail, this subroutine will kick in, rerouting the traveler to the nearest planetary gate."

"So this is what happened to Sheppard?" Lorne asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "It looks that way, yes."

"And with the 1.27 second delay, there was time to route him to a nearby planet." Rodney added.

Elizabeth glanced at Rodney, watching his gaze sober as he read through more of the text. "What is it?"

"According to this entry, the subroutine also greatly increases the velocity of the traveler, in order to compensate for the collapsing wormhole. On foot, that means a traveler would be ejected from the gate pretty unceremoniously, but probably not resulting in serious injury, especially compared to the alternative which is, you know… death."

Elizabeth's gaze narrowed. "But?"

Rodney sighed. "But, in a jumper, where he was already accelerating into the wormhole, we're talking about a huge increase in velocity." Rodney paused and looked back at her. "When he exited that wormhole, he did it at a suicidal speed."

Elizabeth's lips tightened as Rodney's word sunk in. Given that bit of knowledge and the fact that John hadn't yet contacted them, the only feeling she was left with, was dread. "We still need to find him," she answered before looking over at Zelenka.

"Dr. Yamoto continued the search while I abided by Dr. Beckett's orders," Zelenka answered before pointedly looking at Rodney who just stared back, unapologetically. Zelenka turned his attention to his laptop. "We're continuing the search, but have found nothing since the… other planet."

Rodney crossed his arms defensively. "This would be a lot easier if those Neanderthal R&D guys at the SGC would get those damned subcutaneous transmitters finished! "

"Rodney, this isn't helping," Elizabeth answered with a sigh. She could hear the frustration in his voice, but had to do something to keep him on task.

"This is the perfect case example of how useful subcutaneous transmitters… you know the kind you don't have to carry and can't be stolen off you, would be to us!" Rodney insisted. "Then we wouldn't have wasted time we could've been searching for answers or for Sheppard, on a wild goose chase!"

"Rodney!" Elizabeth deliberately sharpened her voice. "Do you really think this is the time to have this discussion?" She stared hard at him, watching as he seemed to back down, his anger cooling behind a dour expression.

"Not really," he admitted sourly.

Elizabeth nodded. After a moment, she softened her tone. "But speeding up the development is a point I will stress with the IOA as soon as possible."

Rodney ground his teeth for a second before nodding. "Right."

Elizabeth watched him for a moment. They'd all been hopeful of finding John when the MALP had detected the jumper alloy. That disappointment had been tough. "At least we're relatively sure that John didn't… die, when the wormhole collapsed," she smiled slightly, determined to hang onto that piece of good news. "Keep searching and keep me posted."

"Maybe there's something in here that can help us narrow down the search," Rodney muttered as he returned his attention to his laptop.

Elizabeth stood there for a moment longer, watching her team work and, in spite of the serious situation, feeling a bit of pride over their dedication. They'd learned and experience a lot in the last year or so, but one thing they'd all embraced, was never, ever to give up on hope. After a moment, she turned and silently walked to her office. If they could hold on to hope, in spite of the odds, then so would she.

* * *

John stared at the ceiling, trying to stay focused, to beat back the fever that drained him, the pain that plagued his body and the surrender that tried to creep into his thoughts as the light through the windows dimmed, giving way to night.

His gaze narrowed as he smothered fear and uncertainty with strength and resilience. He hadn't survived Wraith, Iratus bugs, weird shadow creatures and hostile humans for over a year, to have it all end like this. John had seen McKay do some pretty amazing things and he believed he'd do it again. He had to believe it, because if he didn't….

John's gaze narrowed. He did believe it.

His head turned quickly as the door abruptly opened and Leanna rushed into the room, a small candle held tightly in her grasp. She locked gazes with him.

"They're coming."

John didn't need to ask who. He winced as he sat up and twisted his body to the side as much as his immobilized leg would let him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, and drew in a stuttering breath as he fought to control it.

"John…."

He waved her off. Reaching up, he undid the sling that bound his left arm and threw it aside, before he reached under his mattress and pulled out his nine mil. "Where's Carren?"

Leanna walked over to his bed. "I don't know."

"Damn it," John looked up, doing a double take as his gaze fixed on a small sheathed knife hanging from her belt. He met her serious gaze.

"I told you," she said quietly, "we're not defenseless."

One side of his mouth turned up slightly in a grim smile. "Good to know." He nodded his head at the floor next to his bed. "Hand me the holster? I can't quite reach it."

Leanna quickly picked it up and set it on the bed next to him.

John pulled out the extra clip and tucked it under his blanket, near his hip. He unclipped the sheathed knife and also hid it under his blanket, near the extra clip, before dropping the holster back on the floor. "When they come in here," he spoke, not looking up as he quickly ejected and checked the clip before loading it back into his gun and flipping off the safety, "stay behind me. I won't shoot unless I have to, but I need you out of my line of fire."

"There's a chance they'll leave us alone," Leanna insisted. "We have nothing to give them."

"Except me," John countered, his gaze narrowing. He'd dealt with the cowboy law in Pegasus enough to know there was no sugar coating any of this. "How many people did they kill looking for me?" He asked, his voice insistent as he looked up at her, knowing the direction of her answer, before she even gave it.

Leanna's shoulders sagged slightly and she nodded. "Three."

John closed his eyes and turned his head away from her. His lips twitched over his clenched teeth and he couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

"It wasn't your fault, John," Leanna insisted.

He nodded. "I know." He opened his eyes, "but it doesn't make me feel a whole lot better."

A loud crash recaptured his attention. He raised the gun, his gaze fixed on the closed door to the room.

"I barred the front door," Leanna explained. "That apparently didn't stop them."

John nodded slightly, his gaze never leaving the door. He could feel his hand shaking in weakness, but he steeled himself against his body that threatened to betray him. It was times like this, he knew, where, as his old drill sergeant had said, 'the boys were separated from the men.' It wasn't the first time for him, and in a practiced manner, he pushed away the needs and demands of his body, smothering them in a strength of spirit that was indomitable.

"We'll be okay," he said quietly, wrapping himself in that belief and forcing all doubt from his mind. He could hear scuffling feet in the hallways as doors to other rooms were slammed open.

"Leanna Annoul!" A harsh, male voice called loudly, "we know you're here!"

John looked up at her, shaking his head, not that she looked much like she was going to answer anyway. He returned his hard gaze to the door. "Stay behind me," he repeated quietly as the crash of mangled doors grew louder and closer.

His grip tightened on the nine mil, and the shake of weakness in his hand disappeared.

* * *

Teyla's hands gripped the Ancient console as she stared at the shimmering wormhole. She felt a spring of hope inside him but he cautiously tempered it. Only seconds before, the MALP had detected jumper alloy readings, sparking hope in all of them. But, that hope had been crushed by the last planet, and Teyla was cautious, hesitant to let it flow through her.

"Do we have a visual?" Weir asked as she looked over Rodney's shoulder at the laptop display.

"Coming up now," Rodney answered, distracted as his hands flew over the keyboard. "Transferring to the display," he took a moment to point his thumb over his shoulder at the large flat screen display hanging behind them, before punching a couple more keys and spinning around in his chair.

Teyla stared at the image as it gradually came into focus. A small clearing met their gaze, surrounded by trees, but in one spot instead of standing tall and resolute, the trees were mangled, some broken off into a twisted mess.

"Rodney?" Weir asked as she walked closer to the display.

Rodney tapped a couple keys on the laptop and the image zoomed in on the destruction. "Something crashed there," he said quietly, his eyes widening as he met gazes with Weir. "Recently."

Teyla's heart jumped and she let the hope flow through her. "The jumper," she answered.

Weir reached past Rodney and opened a communications channel. "Jumper One, do you copy?" She looked down at Rodney who just stared at the display.

"That's a hell of a crash mark," Lorne stated quietly.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Dr. Weir. Please respond." She shook her head.

"Ma'am," Lorne's voice was urgent as he took a couple steps closer to Weir.

"There's no DHD," Rodney abruptly stated.

Teyla looked back at the display and watched as the camera swung full circle. Rodney was right, there was no sign of a DHD. "Then we must take a jumper," she answered.

Weir nodded and met Lorne's stare. "You have a go. Take Beckett."

Teyla drew in a deep breath as Lorne immediately headed for the back stairs, McKay right behind him. She took a moment to exchange hopeful looks with Weir, before following.

* * *

Rodney's hands flew over the jumper console, making configuration changes and taking readings, before Lorne even had a chance to land her, just past the stargate in a small field. Rodney easily calibrated the sensors to focus on human life, more specifically, any human life nearby to the registered location of the jumper alloy the MALP had discovered. He looked up at the HUD as the jumper settled to the ground with a thump and his eyes widened. "I'm showing one human life sign practically on top of the jumper… that is, what we assume is the jumper."

"Colonel Sheppard?" Lorne's gaze fixed on the HUD.

"There's no way of knowing," Rodney answered with a sigh.

Lorne opened a communication channel. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Major Lorne, do you copy?"

Rodney shook his head, his gaze fixed on the HUD. He really didn't think Lorne would get an answer, so when silence was the only thing that greeted the major's hail, Rodney wasn't surprised.

"Okay, let's move." Lorne stood up and walked back through the jumper. "Teyla, McKay, Beckett, you're with me. Coffey, Simpson, stay with the jumper. Radio contact every 20 minutes." He opened the back hatch and lifted his P-90 before walking down the ramp and onto the grass.

Rodney followed right behind him, his gaze jumping back and forth between the world around him, and the life signs detector display. He kept a short distance behind Lorne as they walked towards the apparent crash location.

"Should we call out to Colonel Sheppard once we get closer?" Beckett asked as he walked right along behind Rodney.

"Uh, probably not a good idea," Rodney answered without looking back.

"McKay's right," Lorne agreed. "If it's not Colonel Sheppard, then we have no idea who it is or what their intentions are. I'd rather not announce myself until we know what's going on."

Lorne led them slightly to the right of the twisted mangled mess of trees and they entered the woods on a parallel course to the crash path. "Whatever went through here, did it at a pretty high speed," Lorne commented as he stepped over a log.

Rodney followed. "That's consistent with the information I found in the database. Because of the jumper's acceleration when it entered the wormhole, its speed on exit was exponentially higher than a traveler on foot. Even with the jumper's dampeners, it's pretty likely Sheppard was injured in the crash." Rodney deliberately left off the other option, but the scientific and rational part of his mind couldn't deny the very real possibility that the jumper's exit had been at a velocity that was lethal on impact.

"Then we need to find him as soon as possible," Beckett chimed in, his voice firm and professional.

"No kidding, Carson," Rodney snapped.

"Pipe down, both of you," Lorne looked past Rodney and Carson to Teyla. His gaze narrowed. "Teyla?"

Rodney turned and started at Teyla's contemplative expression. "What is it?"

"Our person is close," she answered quietly.

Rodney looked down at his detector. "She's right, we're almost to the jumper."

Lorne nodded. "Okay, Beckett, McKay, you're with me. Teyla, circle around and see if you can come in behind this guy."

Rodney fell in behind Lorne as Teyla moved off through the trees, her stealth momentarily amazing him before he refocused his attention on the detector. Before long, he reached out and tapped Lorne's shoulder before pointing past the major. "Just ahead," he whispered, pulling his own gun.

Lorne raised his gun and stepped through the trees, into an artificial clearing created by the crashed jumper.

Rodney took a moment to be relieved that this jumper appeared to be freshly crashed and was most likely Sheppard's, but that relief was short lived. The little ship was mangled, every line, every speck of damage, showing just how fast it'd impacted. _There's no way he came through this uninjured…. _He tensed as they came face to face with a rough looking man, who walked around from the front of the jumper.

Lorne tensed, his gun held snugly against his cheek. "Ah! Don't!" He warned, stopping the man in mid-reach for the holstered weapon at his side. "Move your hand away from it… slowly," Lorne ordered.

The man stared at them with what Rodney could only call a spiteful look. He was short, thin and didn't physically look like he could hurt a fly, but around his eyes was a dark tension that immediately set off alarms in Rodney's head. Everything about this guy screamed 'bad' and 'danger' and, judging by Lorne's reaction, Rodney wasn't the only one that felt that way. The man's gaze never wavered as he held his hands out to his sides, palms facing upwards.

"McKay," Lorne didn't spare Rodney a look, "get his gun."

Rodney swallowed a protest before holstering his gun and shoving his detector into his TAC vest. He slowly walked towards the man, hitching his thumb back at Lorne. "He's a really good shot… I mean it. You don't want to try anything here…." Rodney stopped just barely within arm's reach of the man and snatched his holstered gun before backing up hastily. It was only then that he looked down and noticed the weapon in his hand, was a standard Atlantis issue nine millimeter Glock. "It's one of ours!" He looked up, his gaze narrowing at the man before he pointed the gun at him.

"It was in there," the man jerked his head at the jumper. "We took it."

"Where is the man that flew this ship?" Teyla abruptly asked as she silently materialized from the other side of the jumper, cutting off any escape route the man might've had, if he'd bolted.

He spun, fixing her with a calculating gaze, before his eyes passed over all four of them and fixed again on Teyla. "He wasn't here when we found it. Think he was alive and some of the local farmers took him in. Braak and the rest of my band are looking for him."

"Who's Braak?" Rodney asked shortly.

"Our leader," the man spared him a quick, black look.

"And what are you going to do when you find the man from this ship?" Lorne took a step closer to their captive.

The man's gaze turned even colder. "Make him help us with this thing."

Rodney glanced at Lorne, whose brow furrowed dangerously. He lowered his P-90, allowing it to hang from his TAC vest, before he pulled his nine mil and aimed it at their captive. He slowly walked forward, his gun never wavering, until it was pressed to the man's forehead. "If you were a bettin man," Lorne asked in a low voice, "where would he be?"

The man remained silent and just stared evenly back at Lorne, but before anyone could say anything more, Lorne grabbed him by the collar and slammed him hard against the side of the jumper. Holding tight, Lorne pressed his forearm across his captive's throat and again pushed the gun hard against his head. "The man who flew this ship is my commanding officer. I don't take kindly to people threatening him and I have no problems doing whatever is necessary to protect him. Give me a good reason not to blow your brains out, right now."

"Major…" Beckett started, but a quick glare by Lorne silenced him.

Rodney's gaze narrowed but he didn't move. Part of him knew Lorne's code of honor as a soldier wouldn't let him murder this guy, no matter who he was, but at the same time, the wild dangers in Pegasus had made all of them reexamine their values, more than once. He'd seen Sheppard stretch those boundaries in the name of protecting their people, and part of Rodney thought that maybe Lorne would do the same. But whatever Lorne was thinking, apparently the man took him at his word because after a moment, he nodded once.

"After Braak left, I found some blood close by along with what looked like the spot your man was laying in. I think he was thrown from the craft when it crashed. Braak was going to check the farms in the area to find him, but after seeing this, I think he might've been hurt. The local healer hall would be a good bet."

"And where would we find this healer hall?" Lorne asked.

The man's gazes narrowed and Lorne shook his head. "Don't lie to me," he cocked his head and quirked his brow, "or I'll kill you."

The calculating look on the man's face disappeared. "I will take you there."

Lorne's half smile was dark. "Good boy." He pulled the man up straight, spun him around and slammed him, chest first into the jumper. Instantly, Lorne pressed his gun to the back of the man's skull. He looked over at Rodney. "McKay, bind his hands."

Rodney nodded. "Right." He made sure the safety was on for his gun and slid it into the front of his TAC vest, before he reached into the back pocket, pulled out a zip tie and quickly bound the man's hands.

Lorne pulled him up straight. "Which way?"

The man turned towards the trees. "This way, but it is a fair distance from here."

"How far?" Lorne questioned.

"A day's walk at least. There are three homesteads between here and there."

Lorne seemed to think for a minute before he asked another question. "Is it in the woods or out in the open?"

"The woods only extend for a few miles more, then the countryside is clear of trees. The healer hall is there."

Lorne seemed to think for a moment, before he spun their captive around and pushed the man into a stumbling fast walk. "Back to the jumper, double time!"

Rodney pulled the gun from inside his vest and looked at it for a moment. Relief that Sheppard was likely alive was replaced with worry for his injuries and what seemed like some very bad men that were after him. Without another thought, Rodney trotted off after Lorne.

* * *

John was ready for it when the door to the room crashed open. Adrenaline surged through him and he kept his finger close to the trigger as several men surged into the room. His gaze bounced from one to the other. Clean clothing and good hygiene seemed to be low on their list of priorities. Each of them was grimy and sported beards on dirt smudged faces but their weapons were clean, apparently serviced well and held in capable hands. They might not care much about how they looked, but John had no doubt these boys could take care of themselves… and anyone that crossed them.

John's eyes widened as he recognized Carren, bloody, battered and held tightly by two bandits, one had a nine mil pressed against his temple. Carren staggered, kept upright only by the men's grip on his arms. John's gaze flicked back to the guy at the front of the pack, just in time for him to look at the two men holding Carren and nod. They let go and Carren fell heavily to the floor.

"Carren!" Leanna took a step forward.

"Leanna!" John said sharply, his gaze never leaving the leader, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

The lead bandit stared back at John, his predatory gaze augmented by a long scar that meandered up his cheek almost to his eye. Greasy tendrils of coarsely cut hair hung down over his ears and cheeks, but his dark eyes were cunning, leaving no doubt in John's mind that he was dangerous.

The leader pointed down at Carren. "We found that one in the woods, watching us." His pointing finger lifted towards John. "We've been looking for you."

John arched a humorless brow. "So I've heard." He raised the gun a little higher. "You found me. What now?"

"We take you," the leader said before looking at Leanna, "and leave."

"I don't think so," John answered immediately. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not walking anywhere anytime soon." He cocked the gun. "Why don't you just get the hell out of here, before I have to shoot you?" He kept his gun fixed on the leader as Carren groaned and stirred weakly on the floor.

Without hesitation, the leader kicked him hard in the gut.

"No!" Leanna shouted.

"Hey!" John drew a bead on a spot right between the leader's eyes. "Kick him again, and I'll splatter your brains all over your friends, got it?"

The man's face broke into a smile John could only call maniacal. "Nice weapon. You can see we found more of them in your ship. Better than anything we have or had before." He shook his head. "There has to be more to that ship than just these guns and we want it. At the very least, it has a dialing device. You make it work and we get off this planet."

John's gaze narrowed. "I don't like repeating myself but I'll do it this one time." He nodded his head towards his left leg. "I can't exactly walk right now, so your plan has a little flaw."

The leader's smile vanished under a cold glare. "Who said you had to walk? Your comfort doesn't matter to me." He lifted a hand, motioning at a couple of his men who started forward.

John cocked his head in warning. "They take one more step, and I shoot you, got it? They might kill me, but you'll be dead."

Both the minions stopped and one of them, tall with close cut, blond hair, looked back at the leader. "Braak, he's lying."

"Braak, huh?" John answered before the leader could. "Good to know your name. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. Don't think for a second that I have any problems whatsoever, in killing you where you stand."

Braak raised his hand, ensuring that his men didn't move any closer to John. "He's not lying."

John nodded slightly. "Smart man." He glared at the blond minion, who was closest to him. "Back off, Blondie." John's hard glare never broke and after a moment, the blond bandit stepped back. John returned his glare to Braak. "Now, get the hell out of here."

The maniacally amused look returned to Braak's face. "I don't think so." He abruptly pulled a nine mill from under his coat, knelt and pressed it to the base of Carren's skull. At the same time, one of his men pointed another gun at Leanna.

John stiffened as he stared back at Braak who just smiled coldly.

"You let us take you without a fight, or we'll kill both of them."

* * *

Lorne marched their captive towards the jumper, watching as Coffey and Simpson visibly relaxed at the sight of their commanding officer coming their direction. Lorne stopped in front of Coffey. "Keep a close eye on this guy. There's a good chance we know where the colonel is, and he," Lorne nudged their captive, "is going to take us there."

Coffey immediately grabbed their captive by the arm. "Yes, sir."

Lorne stalked up the ramp into the jumper and slid into the pilot's seat, closing the hatch behind his team. As he powered up and lifted off the ground he glanced back at their prisoner. "Which way?" He took a moment to stare the man in the eye. "And no false trails. You take me right to this healer hall, or I'll throw you out the back without bothering to land."

The man nodded. "South."

Lorne turned the craft slowly to the south until the man spoke again.

"Yes. That's it. The healer hall is this way."

Lorne halted his directional change and throttled the jumper forward. True to his captive's words, the trees rapidly gave way to a rolling country side and he could see scattered buildings and homesteads.

"This is an amazing craft."

Lorne could feel their prisoner's gaze on the back of his head, but he stared straight forward. "Yes, it is," he answered cautiously, avoiding giving the man any more information than necessary.

"And you can't have it," McKay added from his seat in the co-pilot's chair.

One side of Lorne's mouth turned up in a dark humored smirk before his moment of mirth faded. Images of the crash site persisted in his mind. He'd seen enough crashes to know that the chances that the colonel got out of it without injuries was slim at best and he'd been stranded on this planet for three days…. Their captive's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"There," he said, just as a large building came into view from behind a high hill. "That's it."

Lorne nodded. "Coffey. Sit our friend down and make sure he isn't going to go anywhere while we find the colonel."

* * *

John took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering as he stared hard at Braak, who just looked back at him dispassionately. John could hear him cock his gun.

"What will it be? Either way we're going to take you, so the question is; are **you** going to spare these two's lives?" Hints of Braak's maniacal smile returned.

"You'll kill him if you move him from that bed," Leanna interjected. She took a step forward, ignoring the gun pointed at her. "Then he'll be of no use to you."

John glanced at her, and the gun pointed at her chest. "Leanna, don't." But she didn't even look at him.

"You can't have your way, Braak," she continued. "Not this time."

Braak smiled. He nodded at one of his men, who crouched and aimed a gun at Carren's head. Braak stood and walked over to Leanna. His eyes passed over her body slowly. "I'm not patient," he said, plainly. "I'll take my chances."

John's gaze narrowed as anger boiled in him at the lecherous looks Braak was giving Leanna. "Leave her alone," he said quietly, his voice dangerous. His mind raced, looking for alternatives, but after a moment, he resigned himself to his fate. He couldn't and wouldn't risk Leanna and Carren's lives for his and that simple fact left him with only one choice. He drew in a strengthening breath and fought back the tickle of a coughing spell. "We have a deal, providing you leave both Leanna and Carren alone. You touch them again, and all bets are off." His grip on the gun was unwavering. "You let them leave here, unharmed, and I'll surrender. You have my word."

Braak seemed to consider John's offer for a long moment before he spoke. "You seem like the kind of man that keeps his word," his tone was slightly mocking. He looked back at Leanna and nodded once, curtly. "Leave. Take Carren with you."

John remained resolute as Leanna looked at him, her expression conflicted. "Leanna," he said quietly. "Go. Please."

Leanna turned her head away, the conflict on her face only deepening. After a moment, she nodded silently. She looked at Braak. "You'll need to keep his leg immobilized, or he'll…" she swallowed, "he'll be of no use to you by the time you reach his craft."

Braak's face was uncaring. "Fine," he shrugged.

Leanna knelt next to a dazed Carren and helped him sit up, then stand up. His arm over her shoulder, Leanna looked up, meeting John's gaze. "John…"

John's slight smile was grim. "I'll be okay." He nodded his head towards the door. "Go."

"Touching," Braak sneered, "but I'm tired of this. Get out of here now."

John nodded once, his slight gesture reinforcing Braak's words. He watched as Leanna slowly helped Carren from the room, before he turned his head to meet Braak's gaze.

"Well?" Braak stared coldly at him.

John gave him the strongest angered look he could muster, silently making it very plain that the only reason he didn't kill Braak where he stood, was because his own honor and values, along with the safety of Leanna and Carren, wouldn't let him. He pursed his lips and slowly lowered his gun.

Braak looked sideways at one of his men and nodded.

John's gaze never left Braak as the designated man walked up to his bed and roughly grabbed the weapon.

Braak's gaze was manically eager. "Time to go."

* * *

Rodney held tightly to his gun and the life signs detector as they slowly entered the building. The mass of life signs from the back of the structure hadn't moved since he'd detected them from the jumper, but that didn't reassure him any at all. He looked around, noting the smashed doors and the run down appearance of the building, wondering what kind of aid these people might have been able to give Sheppard.

"This place has taken a hell of a beating," Lorne commented quietly, echoing Rodney's thoughts.

Rodney again looked down at the detector, his eyes widening. "Stop!" he whispered emphatically. "Two of the life signs are headed our direction." He caught Lorne's terse nod from the corner of his eye as he watched the detector intently.

"Teyla," Lorne said quietly. He kept his gun trained down the long hallway as Teyla stepped around Carson and Rodney to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lorne.

Rodney felt adrenaline rush through his body. "Should be coming around the corner any second," he whispered. Turning his head, he peered between Lorne and Teyla as two figures rounded the corner and froze. One of them, a woman, held tightly to an obliviously injured man and stared at them, wide-eyed.

"Let me by," Carson took a step, only to be stopped by Teyla's hand.

"Hold on, Doc," Lorne reinforced Teyla's gesture.

"I hardly think they're a threat, Major," Carson insisted but Lorne just shook his head.

"Help us," the woman's voice shook, but her stance was resilient. "Please."

Rodney watched as Lorne lowered his gun slightly, but held it close. "We're not here to hurt you," he said calmly.

The woman helped her companion closer to them before stopping and taking a long moment to scrutinize the group.

This time, Carson did step around Teyla. "I'm a doctor, I can help," he reached out, taking the man's arm, but the woman just stared at Lorne.

"Your clothes…" she whispered before her surprised look was replaced with a knowing one. "You're John Sheppard's people. You're here for him."

Rodney pushed his way between Lorne and Teyla, but Teyla beat him to a reply.

"Yes," she answered emphatically. "He is our friend. Is he here?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. You have to help him. Braak and his men…." Her brows knitted in concern. "He traded himself for our safety. But his condition… if they move him…"

Lorne nodded once, curtly, cutting her off. "Stay here. We'll handle this."

Carson helped her sit the man down against a wall before he drew his own gun. "What are his injuries?"

"Later, Doc," Lorne urged. "Teyla, you're right with me. McKay, Beckett, follow behind."

Rodney looked down at his detector. "They're all still in the room…" His voice trailed off as an agonizing shout echoed down the hallway. His jaw dropped at the unmistakable voice.

"John," Teyla whispered.

"Move out!" Lorne ordered as he dashed down the hallway.

* * *

The pain was almost more than John could bear and blackness crept into the edges of his vision. Not knowing how the traction was set up, Braak's men had taken the direct approach and cut the wires holding his leg elevated. John hadn't been able to contain his cry as his leg roughly fell to the bed. Incapacitated by pain, he could just make out voices over the buzzing in his ears.

"Careful you fools!" Braak shouted. "We need him alive and awake!"

Great, gasping breaths passed in and out of John, undeterred by the spikes of pain from his ribs. A tickling sensation started deep in his lungs and almost instantly, John found himself wracked by a coughing fit that stole what little breath he had left. When it subsided, it was all he could do just to breathe, much less say a word.

"He's really sick, Braak," one of the men observed.

"I don't really care. As long as he stays alive long enough to get us what we want," Braak replied.

Had he the voice, John would've told Braak exactly what he thought of him, but at the moment, breathing and staying conscious were more important. He was so focused on drawing in one breath after another, that he almost didn't notice a new voice that entered the conversation.

"Don't move!"

John peeled open his eyes and for a moment, he thought his foggy brain was playing tricks on him. Standing in the doorway, Lorne and Teyla both had P-90's aimed at the group. "Lorne," he rasped.

"Colonel," Lorne's voice was calm but his gaze never left Braak's men.

"You're outnumbered," Braak stated plainly. "Two of you and five of us."

"You must be Braak," Lorne replied. "I see you have some of our weapons, but you don't have these," he shook his P-90 slightly and nodded his head towards Teyla. "The two of us are holding weapons that fire 900 rounds a minute with 50 rounds locked and loaded. Do you really want to turn this into a firefight?"

John coughed weakly. "Give them… an excuse," he added.

Braak seemed to resist for a moment, before he slowly raised his hands, his men following his lead.

"That's good," Lorne answered. "One at a time, drop your weapons on the floor. You first, Braak."

John's head fell back into his pillow as the pain from his leg flooded over him, overpowering even adrenaline. At the moment, he had to trust that Lorne had the situation well in hand, because all the sudden, he found himself fighting just to stay conscious.

* * *

As Lorne and Teyla rounded up Braak's men and herded them to the far side of the room – The P-90's seemed to be an effective deterrent against them making trouble – Carson wasted no time reaching John's bed. He looked down at the colonel's leg and grimaced, immediately recognizing a traction set up when he saw it. He couldn't imagine the pain John had experienced when Braak's men cut the suspension wires. Carson dropped his backpack and knelt next to the bed. Grabbing John's wrist, he looked down at the colonel's pale and drawn face. "John?" he asked quietly.

John took several gasping breaths, the tension in his face indicating the amount of pain he was in. "Doc?" he managed.

"Aye," Carson set his hand back on the bed and briefly squeezed his wrist. "Take it easy, lad." He briefly laid a hand on John's forehead, noting the heat that met his touch.

"Leanna… Carren…" John asked, his eyes opening as he looked around.

"Who?" Carson looked up at Rodney who stood on the other side of the bed.

"Must be the ones we met in the hallway," Rodney answered.

"Yeah," John managed, "Okay?"

Carson calmly gripped John's shoulder. "They're fine, John."

"McKay," Lorne interjected, "go get them and bring them in here."

Carson nodded in agreement. "I want to take a look at that man as well. And the woman might know something about the Colonel's condition."

"Right," Rodney walked around the bed and out the door.

"She does," John whispered. "Nurse…."

It was then that Carson noticed the fresh blood on John's arm and the discarded IV set hanging from a bottle next to his bed. He put two and two together, realizing that John had had an IV up until a short time ago.

"Lorne," John looked towards his second in command, "gotta protect these people. No… law."

Lorne spared a glance his direction. "Was just thinkin' that, sir." He reached up, tapping his headset. "Coffey, this is Lorne. I need you to get in here with a collapsible stretcher. Also, have Simpson radio Atlantis. Tell Dr. Weir we need reinforcements to secure this place and the colonel. I'll have more details for her when we get back to the jumper."

"Bring a traction splint as well," Carson interjected.

Lorne nodded. "Beckett wants a traction splint as well."

Carson looked over his shoulder as Rodney entered the room, helping the woman steady the man. Carson pointed. "Get him to a bed." He pushed himself up and walked to the end of the bed. Leaning over, he looked closely at John's leg. Carson ran a careful hand over John's foot, noting the warmth of good circulation and looked up as the woman walked up next to him, her face a mask of concern.

"Leanna," John said quietly.

Carson looked at her. "You have medical knowledge? You've been treating him?"

Leanna nodded. "Yes."

"Dr. Carson Beckett," Carson introduced himself.

"Healer…" John added quietly.

Leanna looked over at Carson. "You can help him then?"

Carson smiled slightly at the relief on her face. "Aye, though it seems you've done a pretty fair job of it with what you had."

Leanna shrugged. "We make do."

Carson nodded. "Besides the obvious broken femur, what other injuries does he have?" He walked back up next to John and palpated his ribcage, as Leanna rattled off a list. He could feel the slight shift of ribs under his fingers and John tensed, hissing in pain. Carson sat back. "Sorry." He dug around in his bag and pulled out a stethoscope. Peeling back the blanket, he listened intently to John's chest for a minute, before pulling the stethoscope off and looping it over his neck. "I'll add what sounds like the beginnings of pneumonia to that list." He rummaged around in his bag and produced an IV set and a bag of saline.

"I was afraid that would happen," Leanna answered, "but I had nothing to give him for it except fluids."

"The fluids helped," Carson replied as he gave her a reassuring smile. "You've done a very good job caring for him as best you could." Carson nodded his head at her companion. "How is he?"

Leanna looked over her shoulder. "Carren? I think his injuries are minor. I can care for him just fine."

Carson hesitated a moment, before deciding he could trust her judgment. "All right. Let me know if that changes. He looked down as John's body tensed and a strangled cry escaped him.

"Leg…" his voice was strangled and broke over the word.

"Aye," Carson muttered as he reached in his bag and pulled out a case of pre loaded syringes. He opened the case and scanned them until he found the one he wanted. Uncapping the syringe, he rubbed an alcohol prep over John's arm. "Hold on, John, this'll help." Finding a vein, he easily injected the drug and watched for a moment, before John's body relaxed into the bed, his breathing slowing.

"Thanks," John whispered.

Carson patted his shoulder briefly. "No problem." He looked over his shoulder as Coffey entered the room, collapsible stretcher and traction splint in his hands. He set them next to Carson, before joining Lorne and Teyla guarding Braak and his men.

Carson looked up at Rodney and Leanna. "I'll need your help. Traction splint first."

* * *

John felt like his body was melting into the mattress, as the pain within him snapped, leaving behind fatigue, weakness and a floating numbness that was such a stark contrast to what he'd endured the last three days that he couldn't help but notice it. John let his eyelids slide shut. In the back of his mind, relief wormed its way past worry. They'd found him. Not that he'd ever doubted it; he'd never let himself doubt it. He wasn't sure if the smile he attempted, actually made it to his mouth as the buzzing effect of the drugs Carson gave him, flooded through his body. The reassuring tone of the doctor's voice, combined with Teyla's quiet words, and even Rodney's terse comments, soothed him. He felt dull jabs of pain from his leg as they carefully moved it, but those spikes would quickly disappear, leaving him again in that floating, calming state. His eyes closed, John still managed to quirk his brows. Carson had definitely given him the good stuff.

"Knew you'd find me," he whispered.

"Well, you didn't make it easy on us," Rodney responded. "You do realize I haven't slept in three days?"

This time, a shadow of his smile actually made it to his mouth as he opened his eyes, noticing several more people in the room, Marines by the looks of them. He squinted. "Sanders' team?"

"And O'Donnell's and Percy's. Fifteen more Marines are outside the building. Compliments of Dr. Weir." Rodney answered.

"Don't worry, Colonel," Carson interrupted. "Lorne will take care of everything, you just relax now. We're going to get you on a stretcher and back home."

John looked past Carson and met Leanna's gaze. The shadow of a smile on his face intensified slightly and she smiled back at him. "Thank you," he whispered.

Leanna nodded once, her smile lingering.

John's eyelids drooped again as blackness crept into his vision. He tried to say something… anything, but the words, right along with consciousness, escaped him.

* * *

Elizabeth stopped just inside the doorway to the infirmary, her gaze settling on Teyla, Rodney and Lorne all standing quietly off in a corner. She looked around, noticing the closed doors to the OR wing and suspected John was still being cared for. She crossed the infirmary and smiled thinly at the small group. "Any word?"

Teyla returned her smile. "No. Carson is still working on his leg, as far as we know."

"The traction splint kept it immobile," Rodney added, "but Carson's putting pins in to align it so it heals straight."

Elizabeth nodded. She'd intended to get down to the infirmary as soon as the jumper returned to Atlantis, but the Danarian situation had to be dealt with and Carson's reassurance that the Colonel's condition, while serious, was not critical helped her prioritize what had to be handled.

From what Lorne had been able to tell her about their situation, she immediately ordered reinforcements to help protect the innocent people of that planet from the lawless bandits that terrorized them. More Marines along with humanitarian aid and medical supplies were first on her list. By the time she'd settled that, a couple hours had passed. She made eye contact with all of them, but her gaze lingered the most on Rodney. "Well done, all of you." Her smile faded as she couldn't help but think of how close they'd come to losing John, or not finding him in time. Tough and hard to bear at any time, it all was so soon after the siege and the loss of so many people, that it hit her particularly hard. Lieutenant Ford's bright, carefree smile flashed through her memory, before she shook her head slightly, dismissing the thought.

Rodney looked at her, his expression stripped of the normal sarcasm. "I wasn't about to lose track of him. Not after… Ford…"

"I understand, Rodney," Elizabeth smoothly interrupted, giving him an out which he took by falling into silence. She turned as the door to OR opened and Carson walked out. His eyes passed over the group and he smiled and nodded.

"He's going to be fine," Carson reassured. "Though he'll be off his feet for quite a while and in lots of PT to heal that leg and get back to active duty."

"That is good news," Teyla smiled and nodded at Carson in gratitude.

"Aye," Carson agreed. "Leanna's traction on his leg made a big difference, not to mention the IV's. He's got a wee touch of pneumonia, but I think the antibiotics will knock that down easy enough. Really, the leg is his only major injury. We'll have him out of the OR and in recovery soon. You can see him then, though it'll be a while before he's conscious."

Elizabeth held onto her smile, letting the relief wash over her. "Thank you, Carson." She looked past him as John's stretcher was wheeled out of the OR, his leg suspended and immobilized in traction. Without hesitation, she led the group towards him.

* * *

Awareness cut through the darkness as consciousness slowly came back to John. The first thing he noticed was the air smelled different… fresher, no hints of mold to be had. He peeled open his eyes, squinting against the bright infirmary lights and wrinkled his nose slightly, immediately noticing the nasal cannula feeding him oxygen. Looking to his right, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth, slouched in a chair, her head resting on her arm and her eyes closed. He cleared his throat slightly and caught movement from his peripheral vision as Rodney and Teyla crossed the infirmary towards him. Elizabeth straightened with a start and opened her eyes.

"Hey," John managed, his voice raspy.

A smile fixed itself on her face. "Hey, yourself." She stood up and took the few steps needed to stand next to his bed. She looked down at him. "How do you feel?"

John arched his brows weakly. "Right now, I don't feel a thing, but I'm guessing Carson has something to do with that."

"Probably," Elizabeth answered.

"Definitely," Rodney piped in, a smile the only thing breaking the dour mask on his face making for an odd expression.

"Carson says you're going to be fine, John," Elizabeth's voice was reassuring. "It'll be a while before you're on your feet again, but you're going to be fine."

John stared at his elevated leg and his thoughts immediately turned to recent events. "The Danarians? Leanna?" He asked.

Elizabeth nodded at him. "Secure. We've sent aid and medical supplies and will start helping them rebuild their society, starting with law enforcement and some doctors and medical personnel. Until then, I have Lorne setting up a rotation of military personnel from Atlantis to help them maintain law and order, until they can do it on their own. Standing orders on Atlantis' secrecy still apply, but the Danarians seem willing to accept our help without too many questions."

He smiled slightly, remembering Leanna's dedicated care in spite of his vague explanations on who he was. "They're good people," he answered. "Thanks, Elizabeth." He felt a warm grasp on his hand as she took it into hers.

"After everything they did for you, it's the least we can do," she replied softly. "Get some rest, John, and heal."

"Atlantis needs you," Teyla added as she walked up next to his bed.

"And I don't need to be breaking in another team leader," Rodney chimed in from his place at the foot of John's bed.

John's chuckle was weak as his eyes slid shut, the presence of good friends around him, lulling him to sleep.

* * *

**Epilogue: **

_Danar: Four Months Later…_

John walked down the back ramp of the jumper and stopped as his feet hit solid ground. He looked around, noting a perimeter of Marines keeping watch over the healer hall. A smile touched his lips as he walked towards the hall, a team of medical personnel and supplies right behind him. As he approached the entrance, a large man emerged from the building and froze, before smiling big and waving.

"John!"

John grinned back. "Carren!" He stopped face to face with the Danarian and grasped his forearm tightly.

"It is good to see you on your feet again, my friend." He looked John up and down. "You look much better than the last time I saw you."

John's smile faded slightly. "So do you."

Carren held his gaze before he shrugged. "Leanna is inside." He brought his other hand up and squeezed John's upper arm. "Your people's generosity is amazing, John. Without your help, there are many of my people that would not be alive today."

Gratitude warmed John's expression. "Without your help, I wouldn't be alive today. It's the least we can do. Besides," he straightened a bit. "We make it a habit to help good people."

Carren nodded and let go of John's arm. "Yes, I have met Teyla Emmagan and several Athosians." He turned back towards the hall. "Come. I know Leanna will be happy to see you."

John followed behind Carren as they entered the hall. Above him, the strands of light bulbs were lit again, with Atlantis' engineers managing to fix the building's power generator and supplementing it with one of their own. The walls were repainted and the floors and entire structure were spotlessly cleaned. It was immediately evident to John that in the last four months, a lot of work had gone into restoring the clinic. A sense of personal satisfaction swept through him as he realized that if there was silver lining to his ordeal, the recovery of the Danarian people was definitely it.

Carren stopped and stepped out of John's way. "End of the hall on the right."

John tapped Carren's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Thanks." He continued down the hallway before pausing in front of the designated room. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered. He immediately recognized Leanna, even though her back was to him. She seemed to be counting inventory on a high shelf and he hesitated to interrupt her but she apparently heard the door open.

"Just a minute," she answered without turning.

John smiled slightly and quietly closed the door behind him, before he stood patiently, silently waiting for her. Affection warmed him as he watched her hands move, counting supplies. In the months since his injury he'd had a chance to look back and his realization of just how much of his recovery and even his life, he owed her, only deepened.

Abruptly, Leanna set down her paper and turned. "How can I…" her voice trailed off as she caught sight of him.

John's wave was small. "Hi."

A wide smile broke out on her face. "John!" In several quick steps, she crossed the room and threw her arms around his neck, oblivious of the hard touch of the P-90 hanging from his vest.

Shocked, John tensed for a moment, before he slowly wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace. "Good to see you too," he quipped.

She broke the embrace, stepped back and looked him up and down. "You look well enough."

John's smile faded slightly, but the strength of gratitude in his expression remained strong. "Thanks to you."

She shrugged. "It's my job. Besides your people," she shook her head her expression turning amazed, "they've repaid us, a hundred fold. We have doctors, supplies and can help people when they need it. We even have a resemblance of law and justice again." A shadow crossed her face and John couldn't help but notice it.

"What happened?" he asked.

Leanna met his gaze again. "Braak and two of his top men were executed last week for their crimes." Her expression strengthened again. "It was the right thing to do and a jury decided it." She took a deep breath. "I'm just glad it's over."

John couldn't say he was sad Braak was dead, but he wished Leanna didn't have to go through what she had at Braak's mercy. "What about the rest of his men?"

Leanna smiled. "Put to work building roads."

John nodded approvingly. "Nice." He looked away and bounced lightly on his toes. "Look the reason I came here…" his voice trailed off.

Leanna cocked her head. "What?"

He looked back at her. "You saved my life," he said quietly, "and I know it's your job, but I just wanted to say, in person," he took a step closer to her. "Thank you."

Leanna smiled at him and before he could react, she stepped up close and kissed him on the cheek before backing up. "You're welcome."

John quirked his brows and stared back at her as the warmth from her lips lingered on his cheek. Feeling suddenly a bit awkward, he pointed back towards the door, breaking the moment. "I should… get going." He turned and opened the door, only to be stopped by her voice.

"John?"

He looked over his shoulder at her.

Leanna held her smile. "Don't forget to come back and visit."

His awkwardness disappeared and his smile returned. "Will do." He walked out of the room and gently closed the door behind him. He paused for a second, his thoughts lingering on Leanna, before he flexed his leg muscles. He felt a touch of stiffness but knew it was nothing that wouldn't fade over time. As he walked down the hall, he looked around, again amazed how different the place looked. He and the expedition had so much pain, suffering and tragedy recently that for a moment, he relished in the good they'd done and how much they'd managed to help the Danarians in such a short period of time.

Exiting the hall, he walked towards the jumper, his steps sure. Waving at one of the Marines on patrol he quickly entered the jumper and sat down in the pilot's seat. Suddenly, he felt antsy to get back to Atlantis. There was so much to do, so many worlds to explore and he was ready to take on all the challenges that faced him. Closing the back hatch, he eased the jumper off the ground and headed for the gate.

~The End~

--------------------------  
**Prompt**: _Sheppard lost or crashed on an Earthlike planet. He's not able to share who he is or get them to believe him. He's found and brought to a hospital but an insufficient one like a poor rural clinic. He's confined to bed - preferably with a broken leg and/or has a few really bad things happen, and a few spots of hope, like a caregiver who he sees infrequently but she is actually competent and caring. I would be okay if he developed a little thing for her, but no Mary Sue's (me: Thank goodness! hehe)_

_No Death, Permanent injury or whimpering, cowering or scared. His inability to help himself is due to his physical incapacitation and illness only._


End file.
